Different Together
by Hippothestrowl
Summary: Canon fourth year (GoF) until an event in Divinations changes Harry's life forever. Harry/Luna seriously fluffy romance – with a little drama and danger of course!
1. A Change of Direction

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**Chapter 1**

**A Change of Direction**

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~~~ The Headache of Divination ~~~

"It might be supposed," declared Professor Trelawney in her soft, misty voice late in the September of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, "that the meaning of each card is quite fixed and not open to other, more subtle interpretations..."

Lavender Brown's mouth opened in a big round 'O' but no sound came out.

Harry, too, suppressed his instincts, swallowing a low moan as he rolled his eyes in Ron's direction. He was certainly feeling drowsy from the dense fragrance that hung like a cloud in the Divinations classroom but that was not the main cause of his discomfort. A headache was threatening and he was bitterly regretting ever opting for the subject of foretelling the future. He had already sneaked a look at his top card and had, for once, been hopeful that the teacher could find nothing ominous in it.

"Swaps?" Ron hissed softly to Harry, "I got Sun, Moon, and Stars which can't be good all together in the daytime surely? What you got?"

"Some bloke with a bent leg," whispered Harry, sliding it over in return for one of Ron's.

"Miss Patil, my dear, if you would, please?" intoned Trelawney supplementing her speech with a dramatic flourish of her arms.

Almost trembling, Parvati turned over her first card. "It's... the Hierophant!"

Ron tried – but failed – to suppress a snigger. It came out like a snick. Trelawney rounded on him, her eyes, mantis-magnified by the thick lenses of her spectacles, blinked as slowly as an owl in the gloomy crimson haze.

"Mr Weasley, if you would offer your insights?"

"Erm... might it be a sort of elephant only... uh... higher?"

A long sigh of disappointment came from between the professor's lips. The breath went on and on, and Harry wondered idly if she had truly expired standing up. _Hopefully,_ he thought, with a gleeful malevolence. However, there was enough air remaining for her to faintly expend a last extended gasp with, "Your first card, Mr Weasley?"

Ron turned over the one which Harry had slipped to him.

"Uuh... it's just some poncey git with his leg cocked over.."

"Fool, Mr Weasley! You've played the Fool card! What of your other two? Relationship is everything in the Tarot, as I'm sure you already know."

"Mmm... the Sun and... let's see... the Stars," he replied, acting as if he didn't already know.

"Well, I think then you might expect a foolish, heated exchange before nightfall, don't you?"

Harry felt the teacher's beady eyes fall upon himself and he winced. Next to Potions, Double-Divination was his second worst nightmare and the migraine was worsening. His scar was beginning to prickle with pain and he rubbed at it ferociously. Another hour of this and he'd explode.

"Mr Potter? Could you...?"

He snapped over his card which he knew was the Moon card but he hadn't seen the other two yet.

Professor Trelawney shrieked then sank (carefully) onto a nearby pouffe, hand clutched theatrically at her throat, and with eyes (almost) closed.

"My dear boy – my poor dear boy – no – it is kinder not to say – no – don't ask me..."

_I won't,_ groaned Harry to himself. He looked at the man-in-the-moon face crudely drawn on the ancient card. "Umm... I'll be going on a journey beyond this world where I shall need to escape a raving bug-eyed creature before I can get back?" He stared with some significance at Trelawney's copious eyeballs.

"I'm afraid you will not be returning, Mr Potter." Sybil Trelawney was now fanning herself with the loose end of her knitted shawl; watery eyes rolled up to the ceiling shrouded in the coloured mist.

There was a brief silence during which everyone was staring at Harry, transfixed.

"Brilliant!" Harry cried, and clambered up noisily onto his feet. "I'd better get my spacesuit on right away then, hadn't I?" He stomped off towards the trapdoor then whirled around. "You know what? Hermione was right – you're a total fraud! I quit!"

He looked over at Ron. "Coming?"

Ron mouthed back silently, "Can't – Mum – would – kill – me."

They exchanged several hot glares and mouthed curses.

"Fine!"

As Harry descended the ladder he slipped down three rungs and banged his arm which didn't help his temper one bit.

From above, he could hear Trelawney's voice, "Was it something I said?"

Then the trapdoor slammed shut and he was alone, slowly being coated in what appeared to be powdery tea dust drifting down from overhead.

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~~~ The Patience of McGonagall ~~~

Harry banged the brass lion doorknocker on Professor McGonagall's office door so hard that its growling complaints were still echoing down the hallways as the Deputy Headmistress burst out with a very concerned look on her face indeed.

"MISTER Potter! What is all this racket? Why are you not at your lessons?"

"Sorry, Professor," replied Harry rather meekly. "I didn't know my own strength." The doorknocker rolled its eyes and folded its forepaws in stern disbelief.

McGonagall frowned. "You'd best have a good reason for disturbing my morning. Come in at once."

Harry followed the professor and accepted the seat in front of her desk.

"Well, Potter? What is it?"

"I, erm... quit... that is, I wish to mmm... request a change from stupid fortunetelling to uuh..." – his eyes fell upon a ruffled red ink quill that was tussling a showy black plume as it attempted to mark a column of percentages on a heap of Transfiguration homework – "to... yes, to Numerancy – I mean, Arithmancy." He nodded, rather too enthusiastically in McGonagall's opinion.

The Professor's mouth was set in a firm line; Harry knew that was not a good sign.

"Do you even know what Arithmancy is, Potter?"

"Course I do!" huffed Harry, "It's numbers and er... adding and..." – he tailed off into a mumble as he watched the teacher's expression – "It's predicting the future as well, isn't it?"

"It is indeed – but a more respectable form in my opinion," she added. "However, changing elective subjects mid-term is not to be taken lightly; you will have a lot of catching up to achieve. I will give you this one opportunity but I do not expect students to flit from subject to subject on a frivolous whim. I want your word that you will study diligently and not waste Professor Vector's time."

"I will! I will!" cried Harry. "Hermione will help me catch up; it's only a few weeks after all. She did the same, no problem."

McGonagall stared at Harry as if she thought he had gone quite mad.

"Miss Granger did not switch electives – she was already taking Arithmancy. She merely gave up Divination so she could focus better on that subject. Furthermore, that was LAST year, Potter!"

She went over to a prodigious wallchart scroll that hurriedly unrolled sideways as she drew near. "Fortunately for you, Seventh Year Advanced Arithmancy is treated as a separate subject so you do not necessarily need to stay on an extra year for that."

The Professor's finger jabbed at the chart then glanced at her wristwatch before turning around to face Harry again. "The next Arithmancy class is about to begin. I suggest you hurry. I will inform Professor Vector."

Something tenuous and filmy, like a ghostly cat, sped from the end of McGonagall's wand and disappeared up through a corner of the ceiling.

"Thank you, Professor!"

Harry whirled around to leave but continued his spin to face the Deputy Headmistress once more. She had been anticipating it. "Class 7A," she said dryly, folding her arms in a resigned fashion.

Harry continued one more spin, almost without pause, "Erm..."

"Seventh floor, Potter, Next to Room 7B and 7C believe it or not – near to Gryffindor Tower. You do know where that is?"

"Yes, thank you, Professor!" cried Harry dizzily as he raced off, slamming the door behind him so hard that the doorknocker's eyes bulged.

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~~~ Finding One's Place ~~~

When Harry arrived, the door to Class 7A was already closed and he could hear the class underway. He peeped in.

"Come in, Potter, find yourself a seat," called the pale-faced witch from the head of the class. Her long black hair swirled like a cast fishnet as she made a quick head gesture towards the rows of desks before her, then resumed her lecture.

"We shall move on now to the various groups of evaluation," she announced to the class.

Harry looked wildly around for Hermione then faltered. Before him was a sea of young faces, almost all looking his way – little _third_-year faces. Some eyes were wide with apprehension – even alarm – at seeing the Boy-who-lived in their midst, while a few others, mostly girls, smiled coyly at him and tilted their heads on one side to give him the best view of their profile.

"Erm..."

"What is it, Potter?" barked Vector. "We haven't got all day."

"Fourth year ... I'm a fourth year. Am I in the wrong class?"

"Potter, the Arithmancy course begins in third year. _You..._" – she poked a bony finger in his direction – "are a beginner. Now hurry along and sit down."

Harry took a few hesitant steps. One mousy-haired youngster was gesticulating excitedly at the empty seat on his other side; it was Colin Creevey. Harry groaned inwardly. No way could he face four years of continuous undiluted hero worship. But every position appeared taken; had he any choice?

He took a couple of paces slowly forward down the aisle. A big-boned, bloated girl (who reminded Harry of Vincent Crabbe apart from the shadowy suggestion of a moustache) plonked her voluminous bag down in the path ahead and smirked at him over her shoulder. Harry veered across to the leftmost aisle and spotted a couple more empty chairs, one next to a hairy student feathering her ear with a quill, and the other picking his nose – but at least they were of the few showing no interest whatsoever in his arrival. _I'd rather be ignored than drooled over._

He dropped into the seat next to the ear-tickler and shrugged mournfully back at Creevey's disappointed expression as if somehow it couldn't be helped. He mouthed some invented words for the boy to puzzle over in support of his ploy and to ease his guilty feeling.

"That is the essential theme of the next few lessons but I'd now like you to study these pages in more detail for the next thirty minutes before we discuss them. You may confer quietly with your partner. Carry on."

Harry stared at the empty double desktop he shared with the queer quill girl as he realised he had no books. She continued to stare out of the window. At the same time he became conscious of an unpleasant odour from her direction; it reminded him of Hagrid's slurry pit in summer. Nose-picker two seats down suddenly seemed more attractive. A surge of stench intensity made him grimace and he struggled to hold down his breakfast. Now he knew why this seat had been empty. He looked up hopefully at Professor Vector who was quietly marking papers.

The teacher must have felt his eyes on her for she looked up. "Help Potter get up-to-date would you, Miss Lovegood?" Then the woman resumed scratching away with her quill.

Harry turned to the girl beside him but all he could see was the back of her long, straggly, streaky-blonde hair. She seemed to have something like beans clipped on her ears which dangled and swung as she very... very... slowly turned her head to stare dreamily at him through her forgotten quill. "Mmm...? Oh! ... I think you're Harry Potter."

"Yes, I know I am." _Is she totally barking?_

She lowered her feathery plume below her eyes like a Victorian lady's fan. "You're sitting next to me."

He struggled to be pleasant but the eye-watering smell was choking him. "Uuh... yeah."

Harry tried a polite smile but he knew his jaw was set wide open like the toothy rictus of a TV presenter who had died of an over-prolonged grin. But at least he wasn't the only one looking odd. There were several bottle stoppers she had tied with string around her neck causing Harry to picture her as a mad brewery worker warding off spirits.

"Excuse me," he added in a low, frowning-kind-of-voice, "but, erm... what exactly is that?" He pointed at the cork necklet against her throat.

"My perfume? Oh, it's just something I found on the floor of the bog and scraped it up."

She cast a quietening charm around them both (for the privacy of which Harry was grateful) slid her open book halfway across between them, then startled Harry by lunging at it with two thumbs. "We're in this section between here and here, but I'm afraid it won't make any sense to you whatsoever."

"Out the bog?" squeaked Harry, faintly.

"Yes, the marsh near where I live. It's thousands of tiny flowers called exultantis – the carefree plant – oh! you thought I meant the toilet – that is SO funny!" She burst into giggles and although the sound felt belittling to Harry's self-esteem, for some reason the action released a more pleasing fragrance that was altogether airy and fresh and so light that he wanted to breath in huge gulps to get enough of it.

"Well... it's not... too bad now," mused Harry. "Pleasant actually."

"Yes, it changes to keep away unwanted creatures and attract only the right sort. It probably means you want to pollinate, I suppose. That's nice."

Harry spluttered, coughed, and his eyes screwed up tight with embarrassment. "I do NOT want to–!"

But the girl had exploded into additional giggles which made her even more aromatic and less irritating than before. As they subsided, she said, "I'm Luna." She had declared her name as one explaining a mystery.

After assessing him thoughtfully for a few moments, she continued, "I'll show you my note cards. They're easier than reading the book because I wrote them."

Harry watched as, from her bag, she retrieved a score of small blank cards, rapidly shuffled them, then handed seven of them to Harry. "That's the essentials. As you learn each one I'll test you."

"But they're..." His eyes opened wide. The cards were no longer blank. Instead, they were displaying numbered lines of colourful, decoratively-scripted handwriting depicting character types, strengths, and weaknesses. Here and there were interwoven little pictograms of people and trees and strange creatures with too many limbs. The top card had an explanation of how to work out the numbers from someone's name so he began with that, and answered Luna's questions as he proceeded. It seemed incredibly simple.

As he neared the last card he noticed many lines had faded away on the earlier cards.

"That means you've learnt those," explained Luna.

With much head-shaking, Harry disagreed, pointing at an especially large gap. "I've not got a clue what that line was. How am I supposed to revise?"

"You mean you can't recollect the wording of the line itself. But Professor Vector isn't going to ask you what was Line 2 on Miss Lovegood's fourth card, is she?"

"Well... yeah, I mean, no, but..."

"But if she asked you to predict – in your own words – just one or two of Miss Lovegood's positive characteristics, what would you say?"

"That's easy. You're a... let's see..." – Harry quickly added up some numbers in his head – "a definitive Five so... probably unpredictable, changeable, and adventurous – hard to pin down might be a better way of putting it."

Luna smiled.

Harry smiled.

She shuffled his cards. "Let's carry on with the ones that are still visible."

Fifteen minutes later, Harry's cards were all blank. "Keep them with you and examine them from time to time to see if lines reappear – then learn those again."

"How do the cards... I mean, how do they know what you've learnt?"

"It's a very powerful charm. My mother invented the spell to help me study. The creation of it took all her magic to produce. It killed her."

Harry's jaw dropped and the cards fell from his hands.

"I'm sss... I'm sss..."

"Sorry? Thank you. It was very sad to lose a parent – but you know that, don't you, Harry Potter?"

He scooped up the cards again and riffled through them, unable to concentrate, wondering how to change the subject. He could tell she was examining his face with great interest. A curious emotion made him bite his lip. "What about your other cards?" He signalled towards her bag.

"Not so important for now. I'll teach you those over the next week or so. You have enough to carry on with today's class." She pointed to the open book.

"Erm... Leu... Leu... uuh... Leuleuleu..."

"Luna."

"Yeah, all your cards were blank when you first shuffled them. How did you know which was which? I mean, which was Card 3?"

Luna giggled. "It was the third one down of course, silly!"

Harry wryly slapped his forehead, realising as he did so that his headache had gone and his scar was no longer tingling, and if his ladder-bruised elbow still ached, why then, he was completely unaware of it. Maybe Arithmancy wouldn't be so bad after all...

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~~~ No Shame ~~~

"That's enough History homework," sighed Ron, throwing down his well-gnawed quill. "I'll finish it after dinner." He glanced across at the common room's clock and groaned. "Nearly another fifty minutes to go. How about a game of Exploding Snap before we eat?"

Harry laid aside his own papers and looked up, obviously thinking about it.

Hermione's eyes glared at them both but it was Ron who received her broadside. "That's not fair, Ronald, others are still trying to concentrate!"

"Yeah, like, erm, let's seeee..." – his head twisted around left and right without really looking – "ONE person that–"

But he was interrupted before he could finish – "Who's that weirdo chatting to the Fat lady?" Seamus had called as he came in through the portrait hole. He strode over to Dean who had his legs stretched out before the fireplace.

Hermione huffed, "Well, didn't it occur to you that he probably wants to speak to someone in Gryffindor! The least you could have done was–"

"It's a stupid Ravenclaw girl. YOU let her in if you want." Seamus dumped himself down on the arm of Dean's chair.

Hermione pulled a face then called out to the room in general, "Anyone expecting a friend?"

Only a couple of faces swivelled half-heartedly her way. Ron was getting out his chess set. Hermione went over towards the exit. Harry and Ron began coaxing their pieces into position.

From the door, Hermione called with a puzzled expression on her face. "Harry? Someone for you."

"Hello, Harry." It was Luna. "Are you ready?" She hobbled forward a few steps. Harry saw she was wearing only one shoe.

The youth stood up slowly, conscious of many eyes turning his way. Hermione was still lingering near the visitor. Somehow Harry's collar began to feel tight and hot. "Er... what for?"

"To help get you up-to-date, of course." Luna held her cards aloft.

Harry walked swiftly across to her, lowering his voice as he did so. "Now?" he hissed. "Vector meant just this morning's class, didn't she?"

"No, up-to-date means up-to-date. It will take a lot more sessions. Bit by bit, you see?"

Harry's eyes darted nervously at Hermione who was rooted wide-eyed by their side, then over his shoulder at Ron. Finally, he gestured ineffectively with his eyes for Hermione to give him some privacy. He became aware that his face was rather flushed. "But..."

Luna looked slightly crestfallen. "Oh... you're ashamed of me in front of friends in your common room, I can tell. That's alright, we can go to mine if you like or we can stand in a storeroom if you don't want to be seen at all."

Eyes flaring, Harry, averting his face from Hermione's scrutiny, said through gritted teeth, "Luna I'm _not_ ashamed of being with you, it's just that–"

Hermione was wrinkling her nose. "Storeroom?" she smirked under her breath as she walked slowly by Harry and headed back to Ron.

"Don't worry, Harry, a lot of people think I'm a bit odd," said Luna, then she added hopefully, "You do still want to share with me in class though, don't you?"

Feeling smaller and smaller, Harry looked wildly around for an escape. "Here, let's sit at this corner table..."

She followed him, then, once seated, examined his expression closely. "Has my fragrance turned putrid again? It does that when–"

"No, it's fine. Look–"

Luna's face brightened. "Oh, good. It's horrible if someone smells isn't it?" She began shuffling her cards.

"Why'd you use that stuff anyway?"

"Oh, Daddy said it would help keep predators away and only attract those you can trust."

"Does it work?"

"Only a little. They borrow things – Predators, I mean. People can be very strange, don't you think? I mean, what would anyone want with a single shoe? It could be Professor Moody, I suppose, but that wouldn't fit. Did you know he showed us an Unforgivable last week? Why would anyone not want to be forgiven? It makes no sense."

"Bad people, Luna. There really are people who are just plain bad."

"Do you suppose Professor Mad-eye might be a wicked person, then? He might be, you know. I don't think he likes me."

Harry sighed. They were too far away to be heard but out of the corner of his eye he was aware of Ron corkscrewing his finger and grinning at him, while Hermione was sporting a more serious expression. In fact, though Harry was trying not to notice, it did seem that the whole roomful of Gryffindors was avidly watching him and his guest.

"Shall we begin?" she said. "I'll need to run upstairs for my dried seaweed before dinner so we don't have very long to work."

"Uuh... seaweed?"

"I crumple it over my turnips. I think they appreciate it. You should try it sometime."

"The elves will provide that for you if you ask them nicely," Harry said without thinking. He smoothed his palm over the table top, not looking at her.

"You're good to them, aren't you? I've seen you. I think you're a good person, Harry Potter."

Harry squirmed in his seat and managed a coughing fit before croaking, "Erm... thanks." Somehow, the fragrance had become even more refined, with moments of exquisite delight as he started breathing again. But over her shoulder he saw Hermione frowning.

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~~~ The Voice Of Reason ~~~

With Luna's help over the next few weeks into October, Harry caught up with the rest of his Arithmancy class. The magical cards had made the task so much more efficient that he enjoyed the sessions – but Ron thought it was hilarious that he was enrolled in a third year class and he never missed a chance to taunt Harry about it. So much so that Harry was considering asking Hermione if she might now help him make up the whole third year course so he could move up to fourth year. Several days passed before he had a chance to speak to her alone.

"I suppose it might be possible over two years hard work," she mused, "then you could join me in the sixth year class."

Harry nodded enthusiastically, but then a light frown crossed his forehead and he rubbed his scar to cover up his expression with a hand.

"Harry, don't take this the wrong way but..."

"What?"

"She's... have you ever wondered why you...? No, of course not."

"What?" he said more earnestly.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I think she might be using... an enchantment."

"Who?"

"Er... you know..."

"No, I don't!" snapped Harry. "Look, if you've got something to say then say it plain."

"Being so snippy just proves you know! Luna Lovegood, of course! Who else could I mean! I think that foul stench she uses is... well it's exultantis; I looked it up. It's part of a group of beguiling plants. It might even be used in..." – she looked furtively around her before continuing in a whisper – "love potions."

Harry forced a dry laugh. "It's just a stinky bog plant that keeps away hostiles and attracts..."

"Yes?"

_Pollinators._ Harry would not speak the word aloud. "Harmless insects."

Hermione scrunched up her face in a very negative, disbelieving way, then she softened her expression. "I'm just saying – oh, Harry, please be careful! You have many enemies. Don't let her get you alone."

"Hermione!" laughed Harry, "No way could someone like Luna be working for Voldemort!" But in his head a small voice seemed to say, _Could she?_

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~~~ Cake and Eat It Too ~~~

Strangely, by the end of the month there had been no opportunity for Hermione to teach Harry anything, for he always seemed to have something else to occupy him whenever she asked. She took to staring wistfully up the boys' dorm stairs occasionally, wondering who might be up there with Harry, or springing open storeroom doors as she passed them, much to the growing annoyance of whoever was walking with her.

Such was the mood when she and Ron walked down with the rest of the school to meet the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons who were arriving to participate in the Tri-wizard Tournament.

"Still looking for mice?" grumbled Ron, as he narrowly dodged a door that Hermione had swiftly peeked through.

"Just one," Hermione answered cryptically. _Strange that Harry didn't come back from Potions with us._

She need not have worried, Harry was already ahead of them, having come with Neville via the library from the final class of the day.

"What you reckon, Ron?" greeted Harry. "Will they all be steaming in through the gates on the Hogwarts Express? Neville thinks they'll Portkey here."

"Dunno," said Ron. "Maybe Apparate? Here's your cloaks. I stuck your schoolbags by your beds. Did you get the book you wanted?"

Hermione gave Ron a funny look.

"Thanks, Ron, yeah," said Harry, pointing sideways as he shruggled into his cloak.

Neville held aloft a fat volume entitled, _The Tri-wizard Tournament: Rules &amp; Schools_ "It's dead good – loads of stuff about them. Wait till you see the head of Beauxbatons!"

"Studying up on the competition, eh, Harry?" called Fred.

"Always pays to keep one step ahead," quipped George.

Harry shook his head, grinning. "No way am I entering. Anyway, the book's not for me."

Hermione frowned. _Who then? And where's Luna? And why couldn't she get it herself? And where would he give it to her?_ She looked wildly about but could not see the girl. She decided to check the storerooms again on the way back.

They did not have too long to wait. An enormous blue carriage pulled by great golden horses flew in with the Beauxbatons. So huge were the beasts that their mighty wings blew over one unfortunate student who stepped too close, and even the trees in the Forbidden Forest swayed until the spirited creatures finally settled down. Not long after, the Durmstrangs arose in a galleon from under the lake, spraying those Hogwartians on the front row with cold water.

Soon they were all headed into the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast. Hermione hustled ahead, dragging Ron with her, and quickly hogged the right hand bench so Harry and Neville had to sit opposite them with their backs to the Ravenclaw table. Luna wasn't visible anyway because her table was overcrowded with the extra Beauxbatons students.

By the time they had all podged themselves on roasts and hams and delicious desserts, Hermione noticed that Neville had pushed aside his final empty dish and was browsing the library book with great interest.

"Ah... so... that was for you?" she said, as casually as possible.

"Yeah, I'd used all my library quota so Harry got it out for me in his name," replied Neville, turning a page and gazing at a long list of regulations. "These traditions go back centuries..." he murmured. There was a note of awe in his voice. "Sounds really dangerous. Entrants have actually died!"

As he spoke, Professor Dumbledore rose to present the magical 'competing-champions-selector' – the Goblet of Fire, flickering with blue-white flames. It was to be placed behind an Age Line in the Entrance Hall, he told them, for participants to put in their names on the morrow.

As the feast came to a close, the Weasley twins began discussing how they might get past the age limit. Ron grinned at them, listening in. Most everyone was looking up and down the Gryffindor table to see who else might be entering.

Hermione frowned. "Ron, where's Ginny?"

"Hospital wing," he said absently, his attention still on his brothers.

"What!"

"Visiting that Lovegood girl," continued Ron, matter-of-factly. "She got wafted over face down in the mud by one of those big horses' wings; it was hilarious! I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart but she went too close."

Harry half-rose out of his seat then sat down again. "She knows Ginny?"

Ron turned his attention back from the twins. "Yeah, their family doesn't live far from The Burrow."

The commotion of students leaving the hall increased.

"Coming, Harry? Neville?" said Hermione. "We can hear better what's being said in the common room."

Neville closed his book, and stood up, leaning to dash, then he rebalanced himself to grab a few of the last remaining cakes and buns which he stuffed in his robes, mumbling, "Uuh... in case, uuh... you know... anyone who might be hungry..."

"Harry?" repeated Hermione, looking back from a few steps ahead of Neville.

"Erm... yeah, sure."

When they arrived in Gryffindor Tower, Ginny was already there – at the window looking out. She came nearer the hearth to join the others.

Neville was frowning at a large apple pie in his hand as if wondering how it got there. "Guess I'm not hungry anymore..."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Don't sling that away! I'll eat it if you're full!"

"Sure, you're welcome," said Neville, off-handedly, "no use wasting good food." He quickly produced a custard tart and a couple of éclairs which he laid across the pie. From somewhere, he dug out a large goblet of pumpkin juice and handed it to her.

"Oh, Nev, you're a hero," squealed Ginny. "I'm ravenous." Neville pinked a little and buried his face in his book again.

"How was erm... what's 'er name?" said Harry as he examined the back of his fingernails. Immediately, he felt Hermione's eyes on him.

"MmmWhooo?" munched Ginny.

"Uuh... Lovegood wasn't it?"

"You mean, Luna?" smirked Ginny, after swallowing some juice.

"Oh, is that her first name? I wasn't sure."

"Well, she's fit but with a very changed appearance," frowned Ginny. "Her hair turned permanently ash-grey so she's had it cropped ultra short. At least now you can see her pig tattoo properly."

"Oh, no!" cried Harry, "that's..."

"What does it matter to you how she looks? Ash makes her look mature, and fuzz is as good as flow when it comes to hair."

Hermione cut in, "Harry, you look quite... disenchanted."

"Well, I... that is... I'm sure she looks fine, and so long as she's happy, that's what matters."

"Yet you seem disappointed."

"Not at all." Harry squared himself up. "So long as she's recovered enough to help me catch up with Arithmancy. That's all I meant."

"But Harry," said Hermione, "you've already caught up with the third years – with Luna herself, in fact. You don't need to sit with her anymore or do extra work in her company. I'm sure she's got better things to do."

Harry froze, looking very thoughtful.

"So why so gloomy?" said Ginny.

"I'm not. I'm fine!" snapped Harry.

"Good!" cried Ginny, grasping his hand in hers. "Then come and enjoy the view with me." She dragged him to the window she had vacated shortly before. "There, what do you think?"

Harry glared and frowned at her and at his own reflection in the window. Yet her cool fingers were against his face, turning his head.

He squinted at what he saw down near the path to Hagrid's hut.

"That's her, isn't it? She's... she's helping Hagrid feed those Pegasus-things..."

Ginny nodded. "Abraxians."

"Her hair hasn't changed at all!" he went on in a heightened murmur. There was such relief in his voice that Ginny laughed.

"What the hell did you say it was grey for then?" He rubbed the slightly-steamy pane of glass with his sleeve to see better.

"Oh, perhaps it changed back when the horse's snort wore off?" said Ginny, heading for the table where she'd piled Neville's food stash. "That makes one think, doesn't it?"

Harry swung back angrily into the room. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," said Ginny, poising a big, juicy, chocolaty cream éclair before her lips, "that even when the most important thing is the taste, you still prefer your food to look sweet, don't you?" She stuffed half the cake into her mouth and stared meaningfully at Harry as she chomped.

Hermione frowned at him, shaking her head.

For a few seconds, Harry glared at them both, then he flung his hands in the air, cried "Girls!", and stomped off upstairs to the boys' dorm.

Ginny stopped chewing to listen. Hermione cocked her head on one side. The faint sound of the opening of a window above could be heard. The two girls looked at each other with very different expressions.

.

~~~ The Fourth Champion ~~~

"Harry Potter!" declared Dumbledore, holding up the final piece of parchment that had come out of the Goblet of Fire.

Harry sat in the Great Hall feeling numb. He was surely dreaming. He had not heard correctly. It was not possible for him to be selected as a champion in the Tournament.

A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.

"But I didn't..." Harry shook his head in disbelief, looking to his friends for an explanation and support.

Ron and Hermione stared back open-mouthed. Ginny, eyes wide with astonishment, had her knuckles pressed to her lips in shock. Neville, pale-faced, was looking at everyone in turn.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

Harry stumbled forward; it seemed to take forever to even reach halfway to the Headmaster's table. A muttering of 'Cheat!" came to him all the way from the Hufflepuff table. Something small, blade-like, and sharp-cornered was thrust into his hand from nearby, and an ink pellet swished over his head by inches. His mind was too deadened to react to any of the taunts. Hermione had started him walking, and now his feet continued to take steps like a dumb clockwork toy.

"Through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.

.

~~~ Without Risk ~~~

"The question is, what are we to do?" fretted Bagman. "Barty?"

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the Tournament," intoned Crouch. "It is a binding magical contract that cannot be revoked."

Harry looked desperately around the small room into which he had been directed, but the portraits lining the walls offered no gestures of comfort, and even the suits of armour appeared hostile with swords and spears raised. He became aware that an object was still digging sharply into his palm. He glanced down. It was a blank white card. He knew whose it must be, so he frowned, utterly perplexed, before risking another look down at it. Three words began to appear, written in a decorative script: _ACCEPT WITHOUT RISK_

Karkaroff, the head of Durmstrang, cried, "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards–!"

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter!" cut in Moody, "but ... funny thing ... I don't hear him saying a word."

"I accept, but without risk," Harry heard himself declare in a tiny voice.

Karkaroff laughed. "What did he say?"

"Utter nonsense, there is bound to be risk," sneered Snape. "It's not enough to cheat his way in, the boy is now seeking to be favoured."

"No..." Crouch's face looked ill in the shadowy, glittering light from the fireplace. "He may be right. I believe a section of Article 12 of the Charter of Contracts allows for such a caveat in commercial transactions. I shall need to check if it applies to the Tournament, of course..."

"How would Potter know that!" snarled Karkaroff.

"Hermione might have mentioned it ... or maybe I read it somewhere."

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime.

"What do you have there, Potter?" said Moody.

"Nothing" – but Mad-eye had already summoned the card from his hand and was holding it up close to his magical eye. The card was completely blank on both sides.

"Just something to make notes on if I needed it," Harry said quickly. Nervously, he fumbled a pen from his pocket and dropped it on the floor. While recovering it, he kept his head low for longer than needed; his expression was being scrutinised closely from all directions.

"It doesn't look good for you, Potter," growled Moody, thrusting back his card.

.

~~~ Doubts and Disbelief ~~~

Such was the attention, good and bad, that assailed Harry during the rest of that evening, he was in a state of nervous collapse by the time he managed to drag Neville up to the dormitory with him.

They found Ron lying on his bed, still fully dressed.

"Ah, there you are," Harry said. "Listen, we–"

"Oh, hello," said Ron, in a funny sort of voice. He was grinning – though it looked a very odd, strained grin.

But Harry was preoccupied. "The book, Nev!" And when Neville looked back at him blankly, he cried in a kind of panic, "Your Tournament book!"

"Oh, right..." Neville retrieved it from his trunk and Harry practically snatched it from his hand, fumbling through it as he fell upon his own bed to get comfortable. "Rules... Rules... Rules... Ah, here it is!" He read it aloud, " _Article 12 shall apply in conformity with School Regulation 41, Section (2) being for the general protection of students._"

He grinned up at Neville, probably the first genuine smile that had shown on his face since his name had been called. "What's it mean?"

Neville looked at him dumbly, then examined the entry when Harry held up the page to him. "No idea, Harry. I know no more than you do."

"But you've been reading this book for ages!"

"Neville took it back from him and browsed the section, hoping for the answer to pop into his head. "Why'd you want to know, Harry?"

"Wh–?" Harry was astounded. "Why?" he repeated, then blinked a few times. "Because someone's trying to kill me, that's why, you prat!"

Harry turned to Ron who, by now, had sat up, swung his legs over the side of his bed, and was staring back at him.

"Tell, him, Ron," said Harry.

"Why would anyone use such a complicated way to kill you?" Ron's voice was flat, without warmth or humour.

There was an instant in time when Harry realised why Ron was behaving oddly. "Y-You... you don't believe me either! Ron, I did NOT put my name in that Goblet!"

"If you say so." Ron lay down again, wrenching the hangings shut around his four-poster, and muttering, "I'm not stupid, you know."

"You're doing a really good impression of it," Harry snapped. He looked across the chamber for support, but Neville was putting his book away in the trunk again, and had his back to him.

Harry knew he needed urgently to speak to Luna, to make her explain what she had meant by the message on the card, but it was Saturday, and the next Arithmancy class would not be until near the end of the following week. He had no idea where the Ravenclaw common room was and he wasn't about to ask either Ron or Neville.

_Hermione! She'll know!_ He looked at his watch. It was late. _Surely, Hermione will believe me? Wouldn't she?_ He sagged back onto his bed but it was a long time before Harry Potter fell asleep that night.

.

~~~ Clearing the Air ~~~

Breakfast must have already begun when Harry awoke on Sunday morning, because everyone had already departed. The air in the common room was stale from the previous day's celebrations but he couldn't face the rest of the school yet so he headed out the portrait hole – only to come face to face with Hermione.

"Hello," she said, holding up a stack of toast which she was carrying in a napkin. "I brought you this ... want to go for a walk?"

"Good idea," said Harry, gratefully.

They walked past where the Durmstrang ship was moored on the lake, munching their toast, and thinking what to say.

"The question is, who _did_ put your name in?" Hermione said finally, not noticing the expression of relief and gratitude that swept across Harry's face upon hearing her words. "It was obviously very advanced magic, far beyond any student."

"Ron doesn't think so," said Harry, gloomily. "He thinks I lied."

Hermione paused in her stride. "He doesn't, you know, not really. Oh, Harry, isn't it obvious? He's jealous!"

"_Jealous!_" cried Harry, spluttering toast crumbs into the chilly air. "What, jealous of being murdered!"

"Look," said Hermione patiently, resuming their walk, "it's always you who gets all the attention – I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously, "I know you don't ask for it ... but, well, you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous – he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just once too often..."

"Yeah, well, it's time he grew up. Maybe he'll think differently once I end up dead or–"

"Harry! That's not funny!" She sighed. "There has to be a way out somehow. An official protest or something."

"Well, there isn't. I've agreed to it anyway."

"You've WHAT! You don't mean you've told them that?"

Harry nodded as he began another slice of toast. "It was Luna's idea."

"What!"

He explained about the message she had passed to him.

"Oh, Harry, don't you see? This may be worse than we thought. Her enchantment might not be only to erm... perhaps it's mainly to gain your confidence. I always thought it a bit odd."

"Odd? What that she might... kind of, like someone like me!"

"No, no, just the opposite! Someone like her would be lucky to– I mean..."

"You think she's worthless don't you? Only good enough for someone as... as useless as me."

"I didn't mean it like that!" snapped Hermione. "But you have to admit she is rather weird, and as for that smell..."

"It's fine when you get to know her!"

"Exactly! Don't you think that's strange? She's controlling you, Harry, and now–"

"But you said yourself that it took advanced magic to get my name in the Goblet! I suppose now you think she's some stinky, hairy, fat old Death Eater bloke in disguise, is that it?"

"Well, no, but she might have an accomplice, don't you think?"

But Harry had turned very pale, and threw the remnants of his toast into the lake which he then stared at mournfully.

"Oh, Harry, you've not... you've not... kissed her yet, have you?"

"Of course not! She's only been coaching me in Arithmancy. I hardly know her!"

"But you were thinking about it."

Harry didn't answer. It didn't help when Hermione tried to reassure him that Luna probably wasn't a big old fat man after all. He rubbed the back of his hand vigorously across his mouth and spat with disgust in the direction of his floating toast.

They resumed their walk.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_I expect this to be only a few chapters long – maybe six or ten, I dunno; Novella length rather than a novel. I'm really developing a Harry/Hermione fic (wrote quite a bit already) but this Luna &amp; Tournament idea popped into my head and it pushed me faster than my other story. I had to go with it or die. So, I figured... I'd go with it._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults — I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**\- Hippothestrowl**

.


	2. Getting to Know

.

**Chapter 2**

**Getting to Know**

* * *

.

~~~ The Sleeping Beauty ~~~

Ron was still not speaking to Harry even two days later. The longer they ignored each other, the worse the atmosphere became. It didn't help that Hermione felt obliged to favour pairing with Ron in Potions. She gave an apologetic shrug in Harry's direction, and he muttered "Fine!" under his breath, then resigned himself to working with Neville – just as Snape swept in the door.

"Today's lesson will demand extraordinary care," declared the professor without preamble, glaring at Neville in passing. "For the Draught of Living Death is near impossible to–"

"But that's a sixth-year potion!" cried Hermione.

"Which is one reason," scowled Snape, "we shall NOT be brewing it this year, but rather its antidote – and if you interrupt me once more, Miss Granger, you will be spending detention disemboweling a barrel of toads using a blunt egg-spoon – ten ... points ... from ... Gryffindor."

Hermione shrank back into her seat amidst the sound of sniggering from the Slytherins.

"So dangerous is the Draught, that we shall not be using it to test our antidotes in this class. Fortunately, there is a spell with a very similar effect. Anyone?"

Hermione could not restrain from thrusting up her hand despite Ron tugging at her sleeve.

"Nobody?" said Snape, swivelling in the direction of the Slytherin benches.

There was silence during which only the flickering of the wall torches could be heard.

Snape sighed without turning round. "Very well, tell them Miss Granger."

"It's _Dornröschen_, sir, also known as the Sleeping Beauty Curse."

"It is indeed. So called because?"

Hermione squirmed upright and lifted her chin, drawing on memories she had revised and rehearsed verbatim. "_Dornröschen_ is one of very few totally disabling spells that cannot quickly be healed by the enemy on the battlefield yet is not lethal. The victim may only be revived by the Wiggenweld potion or else by..."

"Go on."

"by true love's first kiss..." Hermione tailed off rather lamely.

"...which is not commonly available to dark wizards," completed Snape, "nor indeed in ... this ... classroom." He looked around at the attentive faces then waved his wand briefly at the blackboard.

"You will follow those instructions precisely. Any, I repeat, _any_ deviation, may be... injurious, so you will take the utmost care, bearing in mind that you will be testing the potion on ... your ... partner." He glowered at Harry malevolently.

"You have thirty minutes. ... Begin!"

Harry gulped as he watched Neville nervously fumbling with a vial of Flobberworm mucus, then began his own preparations. It did not help that Snape was prowling the chamber, his beady black eyes glittering maliciously in the varying light of the cauldron fires.

Curious smokes and odours soon filled the chamber. There was much chopping and chinking and snipping and stirring but little communication. Those who dared even a whisper were invariably chastised and penalised.

When the teacher eventually shouted "Finish!" right in his ear, Harry lost count of his final stirs, and his brew slowly collapsed to a sickly yellow. Neville had fared no better, but fortunately his cauldron had almost boiled dry leaving virtually nothing to be tested except a thick black smear of sludge.

Snape strode around examining the results. The most complementary word he muttered sounded like "Pathetic."

"We shall need a volunteer – Potter!"

"But..." Harry pointed triumphantly at Neville who was failing to scrape up even a spot of his sludge with the tip of a dry quill.

"Not you, Longbottom! If Potter imbibed one sip of that mud you call a potion, he would convulse for the rest of term, no..." He looked around as if deciding. "Granger! You will extract one stopper of your efforts into a standard thimble goblet – not one drop more, not one drop less."

"But, sir! The smell is revoltingly... _flobbery!_ Perhaps a little more honeywater?"

"Potter won't taste it, he'll be in deep sleep! And if, as may happen, your feeble effort restores him damaged or deranged, then he shouldn't care about the bitter taste in his mouth, should he? Either result is satisfactory, wouldn't you agree?"

"But..."

"Do it!"

She looked woefully at Ron who shrugged but avoided Harry's eyes.

"On the bench, Potter! You will make a fine Sleeping Beauty."

"It's all... yucky..."

"Potter I do not wish to be... _directly_ responsible for you breaking your fool neck should you fall when I cast the spell! Now lay yourself down where everyone can see you."

Harry clambered up, skidding slightly on the Salamander guts and Flobberworm mucus that had slimed up the bench that he and Neville had been working on, then lowered his head back onto what appeared to be a smudge of a dying bat's final diarrhoea. Smelt like it too.

Hermione approached, a tiny goblet trembling in her hand.

"You double-checked the measure?" said Snape. He looked seriously concerned, which did not help Harry's nerves one bit.

Hermione nodded.

"Very well..." He swirled and manoeuvred his wand at Harry. "_Dornröschen!_"

Harry's body, which had been somewhat rigid with anxiety, sagged back and his eyelids fell shut.

"And there he will remain silent forever," said Snape, as if relishing the moment. "No spell can ever reanimate him. His future is entirely reliant on the success of Miss Granger's concoction."

By now, Hermione was shaking badly. She leaned over three times to try to bring the glass thimble to Harry's lips but lost her nerve. "I can't... I just can't..."

"Nonsense!" cried Snape. "Do you intend, then, that Potter remain in a stupor forever? Shall I put his body in the store cupboard and await a better day?"

The sound of Draco humming, "Someday my prince will come..." was taken up by all the Slytherins, but Snape did nothing to silence them.

Hermione's eyes flashed with a sudden impulse. She put down the goblet then stretched over bringing her lips close to Harry's...

"STOP! There will be no cheating in my class, Granger! This is a potions class, not a romance novel!" Snape's expression lapsed into a sneer. "At least now we have learned something of the innocence of Gryffindors..."

Hermione's face turned scarlet and, sobbing with embarrassment, she ran out through the door, almost bumping into a first-year Hufflepuff on his way in.

"Yes! What is it!" said Snape, irritably.

"Sir, Mr Bagman wants Harry Potter. All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs and do interviews. They're waiting now, sir."

Snape glared at him for a few moments. "Very well, very well... Weasley! You will revive Potter."

Ron's eyes widened in horror. He selected a cracked cocoa mug he had used to hold brain slop and scooped up some furry muck from his cauldron.

"Not _your_ fabrication, Weasley," Snape said dryly, "or we may as well nail Potter in his coffin right now. Use your partner's solution, of course."

Ron winced his eyes shut as he poured Hermione's potion into Harry's mouth and quickly ran back to his bench without waiting to see the results...

.

~~~ The Weighing of the Wands ~~~

Harry staggered after the Hufflepuff, feeling slightly wobbly and befuddled. He shook his head to clear it, gradually recalling the events of the Potions lesson. There was still a really foul taste in his mouth and gummy scum on his robes as the boy led him into a small classroom on the ground floor.

"In you come, Harry," beamed Ludo Bagman. "An expert has to make sure everyone's wands are fully functional – he'll be here shortly.

Harry stared at the hostile expressions of the other champions but was half-blinded as cameras flashed in his eyes. He vaguely perceived a figure in green pushing quickly ahead of the others to grab his hand, then he was pulled brusquely into the well-lit centre of attention. The witch was waving what looked like a reporter's notebook and a very long quill indeed. Harry tried to blink away the dazzling spots in front of his eyes.

The witch popped a pastille into her mouth and began...

"Luna Lovegood of The Quibbler, Mr Potter," she announced officiously. "Perhaps you could tell our readers who you most suspect put your name into the Goblet of Fire with the intention of murdering you? Could it be the Headmaster himself? And what of the mysterious Professor 'Mad-eye' Moody? Or perhaps it was either Professor Snape or Karkaroff who are both on record as former Death Eaters and make their hatred of you very evident?" There were gasps and cries from the others.

"Luna?" squeaked Harry, as his vision cleared.

"What eez she doing 'ere?" whined Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion.

"She cannot be denied. Miss Lovegood has a legitimate press card, as does her lovely assistant," smiled Bagman.

"Colin?" said Harry.

"Alright there, Harry? I'm on an assignment and I can do moving photos now so we can do a wand swish and everything later and it'll be a double-page colour spread so I can add a deathly green curse right on your scar! It'll be brilliant, won't it, Harry? Won't it?"

Creevey had cried out excitedly in such a breathless rush that Harry could scarcely think. "But..."

"What are your plans to capture the villain?" persisted Luna. There was a restless movement from those around them, and hisses of frustration.

"Well, I... er..."

"Are we right in thinking you have laid a cunning trap to ensnare the assassin before he slays you?"

"A... trap?"

"An excellent idea! And are you continuing to lead him up the garden path to allay his suspicions? – to lull him into revealing his secret identity?"

"Reveal him?"

"Wonderful! And might the evil mastermind be someone in this room at this very moment?"

"NO! Look–"

"_Mr Potter sportingly dismissed his competitors from all blame in this scurrilous trickery,_" she read aloud as her quill scratched rapidly along with her. "You're very sure then that the scoundrel is hiding elsewhere in the school, but how many teachers or Aurors have been assigned to protect you?"

The murmurs and cries of the other champions grew louder, even Bagman seemed unnerved. "What a thing to say!"

"Aurors...?" blinked Harry.

"Aurors – that's very good to hear! Shall we say more than five that you know of?"

"Five! Are you totally–?"

"Five? Really? So the Ministry have assigned five Aurors to protect the Boy-who-lived from this dastardly plot. The Quibbler commends their expediency. Now, on a personal note, how frightened are you of dying a terribly painful death – on a scale of one to ten, shall we say?"

"Now, see here..." said Ludo Bagman.

But Harry was staring at Luna's smile while she spoke, and a light had dawned in his head. "Ten, definitely," he grinned.

"And what would you say to those who believe your magic is so powerful, and your skills so advanced, that they think that instead of simply jumping out of a window like any normal suicide, you are trying to get yourself killed more dramatically to encourage people to hate you?"

"I would say, why should I even bother to attend a fourth year at school at all when obviously I must already know far more than the highest NEWT level to have outwitted the Goblet, and what use would their hatred be once I am dead, even supposing any sane person wanted everyone to hate him?"

"Well said! Now a final question–"

"Now don't be a hog, Lovegood." A witch in magenta robes pushed Luna roughly aside and grabbed Harry by the arm. "Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet, Harry, love. Just a few questions for a _real_ newspaper ... lovely. ... May I say that–"

But Harry never learned what Rita Skeeter had intended to say, for at that moment, Dumbledore entered the chamber together with someone Harry immediately recognised as Ollivander, and called for silence. Once introduced, the wandmaker wasted no time but began examining Cedric's wand.

"Ah, this is in fine condition ... you treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," smirked Cedric.

Harry looked down at his own wand. He could see grubby finger marks and scratches all over it. He gathered a fistful of robe from his knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously.

"It has no effect on your magic, Harry." Luna had crept unnoticed to his side.

Harry said, keeping his voice low, "Luna! What was that card message all about? What did it mean?"

"Oh, that, well Daddy has to make plenty of magical contracts and he lets me help sometimes."

"But aren't they business contracts?"

"All contracts are the same magic. You did accept, didn't you?"

"Yes, but–"

"Good, because otherwise the lower courts impose a fine if anyone defaults on a magical contract."

"That's all? A fine? No expulsion? No snapping of wands? No Azkaban?"

"Of course not, Harry. Who told you that? Magical trade would have ground to a halt long ago if that were so."

"Then why did you tell me to accept!" he hissed.

"Mr Potter? Would you come forward with your wand please?" said Ollivander.

After that, Harry hardly heard what the wandmaker had to say about his wand, for he watched as Luna and Colin slipped away back to their lessons and was left wondering if Hermione had been right all along; had he really been betrayed?

.

~~~ Sad Separation ~~~

To Harry's shame, he avoided Luna in the next Arithmancy class, choosing instead to watch her askew from further behind in another row while sitting next to the Crabbe-clone girl. He stared at the back and side of Luna's head for most of the lesson, as if somehow hoping to perceive her intentions. Had she tricked him into accepting his place in the Tournament for fear he might have himself discovered how businesses routinely paid of their contracts? Could she really be involved in his assassination? As penance for his lack of trust, he kept receiving a brutal elbow in the ribs and no help whatsoever with the lesson.

For her part, Luna did not turn around once. Indeed, she seemed unaware of Harry's presence as she stared dreamily at the drab grey skies outside while occasionally jotting down the important parts of Professor Vector's lecture onto a new card. She seemed to have a knack of only hearing the essentials and daydreaming away the rest. If only he could see her expression... but her hair floated like a gossamer cloud about her, obscuring his most ardent longings to view the curve of her soft red lips... or perceive the tip of her dainty little nose... or even glimpse one flutter of a single one of those pale, translucent eyelashes that framed her dreamy eyes...

Harry shook himself to alertness as the lesson ended, and wondered why his notepad was as empty as when the class had begun. Nursing bruises as he hurried away afterwards, he strove to focus his thoughts on how to survive the first task in the contest.

.

~~~ A Scolding ~~~

Ron still kept himself apart, so Harry was thrown back on Hermione for company, but she had grown tired of acting as mediator for her two friends. And when, during lunch in the Great Hall, she heard that Harry was also avoiding Luna, she blew her top. "Oh, Harry, you're hopeless!"

"It was you that warned me about her!" Harry grabbed several scrambled egg sandwiches and began munching furiously, pausing only to slurp-sip at his tea which was as hot as his temper.

"But you're missing an opportunity to find out more about what her intentions are," continued Hermione. "Why not play her at her own game? There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up. She's old enough now, and you have a permission form from Sirius. Why not ask her out? Make her think you don't suspect her?"

Something in Hermione's suggestion appealed to Harry, and he wiped his mouth thoughtfully. After all, he'd only avoided Luna in two lessons, or was that three? He could pretend he'd not been there at all; she wouldn't know. Yes, he'd been ill with... nervous tension – that would gain her sympathy perhaps. Then she might feel really sorry for him and they could play together with her magic cards for–

"Harry?"

"What?"

"You were miles away."

"Erm... right."

"Ask her then."

"What, now! No way!" He spared one timid glance at the Ravenclaw Table. It was unthinkable that he might walk across to her in full view of everyone.

"She tends to leave a little early after lunch. Wait outside for her."

Harry stared at Hermione. He could easily say no, just as he had adamantly refused to acquiesce to Ron unless he first received a grovelling apology. Nothing could force him, and Hermione wouldn't think any the less of him for being cautious. There was no reason to anyway. Why should he? "Fine! If you insist!"

He knocked back his scalding hot tea in one big swig then sidled furtively away to the exit, fanning his burnt tongue with one hand, and watched anxiously by Hermione who was, perhaps, having second thoughts.

.

~~~ Nothing Between Them ~~~

"Hello, Harry," smiled Luna, "I was hoping to meet you here."

Harry crept out from behind a pillar in the Entrance Hall. "Erm... been... nervous uuh... stomach... and..."

"It was really kind of you to be nice to Bertha; she doesn't have many friends and doesn't like my company."

"Who?"

"Bertha Bulwark – you know, in Arithmancy."

Harry felt his face growing hot. "Ah, well, you know... Erm, I was thinking about asking... uuh... if it's... erm... Hogsmeade," he mumbled.

"Yes, she'll like that, I'm sure she will!"

"Not Bertha – you!" cried Harry in a kind of loud whisper with one eye on the open entrance to the Great Hall behind them. "As friends, I mean," he added hurriedly.

"Me? Oh, I'd love to go with you to Hogsmeade as friends!"

"It's alright if you're busy or if you're going with someone else or if... y-you would?"

"Yes, we'll be able to talk with nothing between us."

"You mean...?"

"Distractions. Books and cards and lessons and false impressions and so forth."

People were beginning to meander out of the Great Hall, threading themselves around Harry and Luna.

"Right, books and er... lessons." Harry looked around nervously and raised his voice. "Well, thanks for the help, Miss erm..."

"It's Luna." As Harry gladly let himself be swept away from her by the increasingly tumultuous throng of students now pouring through, she raised her voice to a very loud shout. "MEET ME EARLY AT EIGHT THEN WE'LL HAVE MORE TIME TOGETHER!"

Harry nonchalantly examined an edge of the marble staircase and pretended she wasn't calling to _him_, but he made a mental note of the time all the same. It might be a good idea to go early before anyone was about, then they could find some secluded place where nobody would notice them together.

.

~~~ All The Sooner ~~~

A cool wind blew on Saturday morning. Harry had slipped out extra early under cover of his invisibility cloak but there were already several cuddling couples and a pair of heavily-cloaked students, all waiting for friends on the front steps, dancing from foot to foot to keep out the cold. Harry slipped to one side to avoid getting bumped and thus discovered.

Three Hufflepuffs came out amidst joyful greetings to join their comrades, and the enlarged cluster of children swung away laughing and chatting towards the gates. Only one couple remained and...

Harry frowned. The single, grey-cloaked figure facing the doorway with her back to him had her hood so enwrapped around her face he couldn't make out who it was. Yet, despite the stiff breeze, he thought he caught the faint, gentle scent of...

"Luna?" he whispered.

"Oh, Harry!" she said, turning to face his voice. "Where are you?"

"Sshh..." he muttered, taking her elbow to guide her away from the remaining couple's stares.

"I'm invisible," he said finally, when he thought they must be out of earshot.

"Oh ... how ... lovely..." said Luna hesitantly, but Harry could not help seeing a trace of disappointment flit briefly across her face before she continued with forced merriment, "I don't need to hide my own face then! Thank you!" She peeled back her hood a little and peered around where she thought Harry might be.

"Luna, this is not what it seems!" hissed Harry.

"That's alright, Harry, I understand, really I do."

"No, Luna, you don't!"

Luna's elbow was lifted out at a suspicious-looking angle without any visible support so he released it.

"It's just that..." – Harry tried to think quickly – "I don't want to run into Ron or... that Skeeter woman, or..." – he suddenly had a brainwave – "the assassin!"

She gasped. "But... why risk your life just to – oh..." Her cheeks flushed a sweet pink and she tried to hide a little smile.

Harry could tell what she was thinking. "It's not like that!"

"It's not?" A shadow crossed her face and Harry felt doubly-awkward suddenly.

"I mean, well, what I was going to say was..." Harry floundered for a few moments, then he remembered Hermione's admonition, _Make her think you don't suspect her._ "What I was going to say was... I like you so much I don't mind being killed." Harry groaned inwardly and winced outwardly. He knew what he had said made no sense whatsoever and that his tone sounded false even to himself – he could see in her eyes that she, too, sensed his lie.

They walked on in silence. Harry could hear Luna sucking thoughtfully on a lozenge. Filch was at the gate and leered at Luna as he let her out. Harry slipped through invisibly while the gate was open.

"It's because you want to ask me questions, that you asked me out, isn't it?" said Luna, resignedly, as they approached Hogsmeade. "What did you want to know?"

"Well, what I was wondering was, uuh, why..." He couldn't ask her straight out why she had tricked him into accepting admission into the Tournament. "What if... suppose I had erm... paid a fine like you said to opt out of the contract, wouldn't that have been easier? And safer?"

They stopped at the Hogsmeade signpost and she turned to his voice.

"What you really mean is, why did I want to keep you in the Tournament, don't you?" Her voice was gruff, as if on the verge of tears. "You've worked out that I'm the one who's trying to kill you."

"NO! I..." Harry took a step back. Ahead of them they could hear sounds that indicated the village was waking up, coming alive, while behind them were distant figures heading their way – but they, the two of them, were completely on their own. He could hear Hermione's voice in his head, _Oh, Harry, please be careful! Don't let her get you alone._

The girl before him looked and sounded like Luna, but then she always had behaved like this with him. Was it possible for a Death Eater to remain disguised for a whole term? Should he run? He looked wildly about.

"There was no time, Harry," Luna continued, and her tone was now strangely flat and cold as she slipped one hand oh-so-slowly into a pocket of her robe. "I had to think fast."

"Y-You d-did?" stumbled Harry, edging back another step. At least she couldn't see him, but he had to try to remain silent.

"There was no other way." A desperate note had crept into her voice. She was reaching out now with her other hand, trying to probe where he was.

He did not answer but as he eased back one more step... a discarded chocolate frog packet crunched faintly under the back of his heel. He gasped. The air was not quite cold enough to make his breath become visible, but clearly she had heard him for she strode forward with surprising speed and seized his wand hand.

"Don't you understand?"

"No, Luna, I don't!" He shook his hand free.

"If you don't compete then the murderer won't be able to get you killed during the Tournament, so what do you think he will do?"

Harry had already twisted around, ready to flee. He stopped. And then he knew what she was going to say next.

"There must be a special reason why your enemy wants you in the Tournament, but otherwise..." she hesitated mournfully, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. "He'll just kill you sooner, won't he?"

Harry turned around to face her. There were a few moments while only the wind blew and her hankie fluttered damply. Finally, he said, "What must I do?"

.

~~~ The Face in the Froth ~~~

"So, you see, Harry," said Luna, as she blew a subtle pattern in the froth of her Butterbeer, if you don't turn up or refuse to participate at all then you will be out of the Tournament and in just as much danger, probably more."

Harry looked worriedly around the scattered tables in the Three Broomsticks; there were not too many customers in here yet, and none of them looked particularly threatening. Even so, he judged a moment when no one was looking his way and took a swift gulp of his own drink.

With fascination, Luna watched his glass tilt in mid-air and the liquid seemingly pour into nowhere, then she carefully slid a straw down into her own drink.

"But if you are seen not trying at all," she continued between gaspy sucks, "then the murderer might strike directly. You need to appear to be competing but without taking any real risks – that way the magical contract is not broken and the assassin will keep waiting. Everyone will just see you as a pathetic sissy."

"Er... thanks, Luna."

"Better neb than dead."

Harry nodded and took another sup. Luna gulped hard on her straw one more time, then withdrew it from the goblet to gently blow even finer carvings in her froth. The pleasing arrangement was now clearly an emerging face.

"And tell Professor Dumbledore. Ask him to give you protection." She squeezed the tip of her straw into a fine point and continued her art.

"You think he will?"

"Say, you're worried that The Quibbler might print another article asking why there is no bodyguard for you."

"Bodyguard?"

The detailed features on her froth now had spectacles and dark, unruly hair.

"But don't accept anyone from the school because we know the evildoer must be here already."

"Right."

He was watching her blow a gentle smile onto her drink. She lifted the goblet and carefully touched the rim to her lips, slowly swallowing, resting, swallowing, as she gazed into the eyes of the face in the froth. Then she closed her own eyes and took a deeply-satisfying draught, lost in her inner world.

And while Luna was so happily distracted, Harry rested his gaze upon _her_ face, immersed in his own contemplations.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_In case you were wondering, Luna donned her reporter's green robes for the Quibbler interview (so you might assume it was Skeeter then be surprised.) In fact, Skeeter wore magenta (vivid pink) robes in the book but she wore a vivid green business suit in the movie which is how I see her in my mind and probably many of you too._

_There was no intent to imply that either Bagman or Colin are gay when I said 'her lovely assistant'! It was just for fun._

_If Harry's attitude to Luna seems odd, then consider that in the books he was rather uncomfortable with Luna's quirkiness for quite a long time. Even in Book 6 when he asked her to Slughorn's party, he regretted it immediately and hoped she would turn him down. The theme of this story is the two of them coming together despite them both being 'different' to 'normal' people (Harry because of his celebrity status, and the various suspicions and accusations levelled at him over time.)_

_I can now more precisely say this story will be about 30,000 words over six chapters. I've an advanced draft version of the end and it's worked out better than expected so look forward to that and bring both a Kleenex and a party hat! You have been warned! _;)

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults — I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**\- Hippothestrowl**

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	3. A Couple of Surprises

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_So far... 4th-year Harry met Luna in 3rd-year Arithmancy, and though something about her appeals to him, he is uncomfortable about being seen with the eccentric girl. Meanwhile, someone has entered him in the dangerous Triwizard Tournament. Luna advised him to accept – but not take risks. Until they can work out who's trying to get him killed, she's also persuaded him to ask Dumbledore for protection... Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 3**

**A Couple of Surprises**

* * *

.

~~~ The Changing of the Guard ~~~

"Come in, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Sherbet lemon?"

"No thank you, sir."

"Wise choice. I've recently read in a Muggle newspaper that too much confectionery can shorten one's lifespan dreadfully. Take a seat then, I believe they are still harmless."

"Thank you." Harry looked hesitantly around the chamber, but they were alone. He crossed his fingers below the edge of the Headmaster's desk, hoping that Luna's idea had come to fruition.

"I'm pleased to report that I have obtained Ministry approval for the protection you requested," – _Yes!_ thought Harry – "and I must agree," continued Dumbledore, "that your reasoning is very sound, and I shall myself, of course, keep an eye out for any sign of trouble both within the Tournament tasks and within the school itself. But as suggested by yourself, an expert guard has been despatched and will be here shortly for briefing and preparation, then will become operational during the first task and after."

"Thank you, sir. I hope he's reliable and can keep a low profile.."

"Absolutely. The person in question has fine combat, tactical, and stealth skills, and will make a formidable adversary for any would-be assassin, I'm sure you will be relieved to hear."

Harry nodded.

The headmaster lifted a sheet of official-looking parchment, and began reading aloud from it, half to himself, "_Tough, well-trained, intelligent, friendly, cooperative, punctual..."_ Dumbledore's eyes flipped upwards briefly, then he repeated slightly more loudly, "Punctual..."

There was a tentative knock at the door.

"Enter!"

Harry turned, half-looking over his shoulder, then, when he saw who had come in, he leapt to his feet and spun around fully, hardly able to believe his eyes.

"Mrs Figg?"

The old woman who had come through the door was bent over and wheezing with exertion. "Oh, them stairs'll be the death of me, you see if they don't! Better close your mouth tight, Harry, if you don't want to catch flies. And always keep your wand handy. Never know who's about."

"You're... you're a _witch?_"

"I'm a Squib, boy," gasped the aged lady. "Come on, find me a chair. My old bones aren't what they used to be..."

Harry stumbled around but an extra chair had already appeared from the end of Dumbledore's wand.

The woman made a clumsy salute towards the Headmaster then coughed throatily before gasping out, "Professor Headmaster, sir ... one bodyguard ... as requested ... reporting for duty. I've been practising a few kicks and..." – she paused for a few seconds to catch her breath, which she laboured to do – "I never go anywhere without this!" The woman held up her handbag menacingly.

"But... but..." stuttered Harry.

"Don't just stand there, take a seat, boy. Tires me out just watching you gawping. How I'm supposed to nursemaid you if you live in a daze, I surely don't know."

Harry sank into his seat, thinking the world must have gone mad.

"I believe a cup of tea is called for," said Dumbledore quietly. Instantly a tray with a teapot and three cups materialised on the desk between them.

"Well? Will you pour, Harry?" said the woman. "You do know how to pour tea, don't you, boy? She had opened her bag and a rank smell of cats came wafting out. "Must just powder my nose. Have to look respectable and suitable for an assignment of this stature, you know."

"I think that's enough, Dora," smiled Dumbledore.

Harry looked back and forth between the pair of them, then his gaze stopped on Mrs Figg. Was her skin becoming smoother? Was her hair turning... pink?

"Wotcher, Harry! Tonks is the name. Should'a seen your face, though!"

"Harry, may I introduce Nymphadora Tonks, known in polite circles more simply as 'Tonks'. She will be your guard for the rest of the school year."

"But how...?"

"Ms Tonks is a Metamorphmagus, Harry, she can change her appearance at will."

Harry blinked and looked at Tonks almost as if expecting her head to spin around. By chance, she obliged by rapidly reforming her face on different sides of her head in succession.

"That's brilliant!" said Harry. "Bloody brilliant!"

"How do you want me?" said the woman who now looked young enough to have finished school only a few years before. "Long legs, luscious lips, honey-blonde? Or delicate, yielding, petite, swept-back, raven hair...?"

Harry's eyes gaped like saucers as Tonks swelled out further and in more places than any of the girls currently residing at Hogwarts. In fact, he was fairly sure they didn't even have those places yet. Did they?

"Ahem... Thank you, Harry, that is all for now," said Dumbledore. "Perhaps you had better focus on the task in hand and prepare yourself."

One of Tonks's buttons popped off onto the floor.

"Harry? The task?"

The flustered youth jerked to his feet, knocking over his unfinished tea. "Er... right... the task..."

He thought he heard Dumbledore mildly chastising Tonks as he headed down the spiral stair, but he detected the smile in the old man's tone as he did so.

.

~~~ The Puzzle Path ~~~

As Harry went out past the gargoyle and turned along the passageway, (his mind filled with the vision of a huge Tournament stadium where Tonks lay alluringly on a couch at its centre, and the entire crowd of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were groaning in jealousy as he strode manfully onward to the first task,) something in his eyeline flickered further down the gloomy corridor. Harry paused. Had he imagined it? He drew close to the wall where was cast the darkest shadow, and kept watch. There it was again. It might have been Goyle's fat head he'd glimpsed. What was _he_ doing on this floor?

Harry's hand instinctively went to his schoolbag, then he pulled it away empty, wishing he'd brought his invisibility cloak. If Draco was up to something then he'd really like to know what it was. Everyone knew Malfoy's father was a Death Eater. Maybe Draco was in league with the assassin.

Harry crept closer. He couldn't see Goyle anymore but faint whispers were coming from an open doorway a little further along.

"_You're certain?_" Malfoy's voice!

"_Yeah, it's a puzzle path, alright. Seen it, didn't I? You gotta work out really hard clues to know where it's safe to walk else you fall in a pit of goo and have to start again._" – yes, it was Goyle! Harry held his breath and inched forward a little nearer.

Draco sniggered. "_Good one, Goyle! That'll stop Potter winning by sheer luck and his Mudblood friend won't be there to help him either!_"

The conversation veered off to discuss homework so Harry slipped away, thinking hard. _That's not so bad! I can simply fail to solve the clues – nobody can blame me for that!_

But as Harry proceeded towards the next flight of stairs down, he didn't notice he was being watched from behind...

.

~~~ The Charm of Not Being Noticed ~~~

Tonks was entered low-key into Hogwarts – without Sorting – as a fourth year Gryffindor named Doreen Briggs, under the pretext of being previously home-schooled. Dumbledore had enrolled her in all of Harry's classes except for Arithmancy where, like Harry, being a fourth-year student in a third-year class, even she might have drawn attention to herself – and worse, a connection inferred with Harry. However, this made little difference to her duties; the Auror stood at the back of the room, and only Harry seemed to be aware of her.

Much to Harry's disappointment, the young woman had now transformed herself into such a flat, bland, uninteresting schoolgirl, that nobody even noticed her. Harry wondered if she had also used a spell upon herself, for rarely did anyone mention her, or talk to her, even if she was sitting next to them in class. She never raised her hand nor did any teacher ever think to ask her a question. Her test results were merely adequate and unremarkable. In short, she was almost invisible.

Sometimes Harry himself forgot and had to look around when she would reassure him with a wink, a grin, or a tilted eyebrow. They met and talked occasionally; Tonks, smirking as she huddled up with Harry in a passageway – and yet serious in reassuring him they would not be noticed.

"Hardly anyone can see us, and if they did, we're just an anonymous boy and girl snogging in an alcove; my Notice-me-not charm extends to you as well while we cuddle up." She grinned impishly at Harry's embarrassment.

"We're NOT snogging, Tonks," Harry protested, trying to wriggle away as the limited curves of 'Doreen Briggs' seemed to inflate enormously against his chest, pinning him against the wall.

"People see what they expect to see," smiled Tonks, cuffing playfully at his reddened face. "It's the perfect cover – unless you're Hermione Granger, of course." Tonks's mischievous leer was impossibly large for anyone but her.

"Hermione? Why Hermione?"

"Oh, come on, Harry, I know about that Sleeping Beauty Potions class – it's been talked about all over the school ever since."

"I was unconscious! I only heard afterwards what happened. We're just good friends! Hermione was only trying to protect me."

"With true love's first kiss? All I'm saying, Harry, is that if Hermione mentions me and you together then you know her feelings for sure, don't you? because that's the only way anyone might notice me as well."

Harry stared at Tonks's smile, flabbergasted by what she had said – but her face sobered up suddenly, and she restored her body to its usual blandness.

"Harry ... call on me at any time for advice or help – I'm really worried about you." She frowned, brushing his hair with a friendly hand before adding solemnly, "Promise?"

Harry nodded, then eventually gave her a rueful smile. He trusted Tonks, but it was hard to ignore the students passing by without getting flustered, even though they never even glanced their way. How could they not see the two of them?

No one else was informed of Doreen Briggs' real identity, although Harry did vaguely explain to Luna and Hermione that there was 'someone looking out for him.'

So, with Luna's plan of pretending-to-compete accepted and in operation, Harry relaxed somewhat from concerns about the Tournament, although he did begin to feel nervous as the week of the first task approached. Still, at least he had no need to make any preparations. He did, however, have one additional worry...

.

~~~ Crumbs! ~~~

"Neville, have you still got that Tournament Rule Book?"

"Sure thing, Harry."

They sat on Neville's bed and turned the pages. Neville had scrounged a large pack of oatmeal cookies 'in case anyone was hungry', and was sharing them with Harry.

"I was wondering how to avoid getting disqualified," said Harry, crunching on a biscuit.

"It's in the end section," said Neville, flipping forward rapidly through the book. "Here." He prodded the heading.

Harry read for a while, sometimes out loud, else muttered half to himself. "It says here that if a student is facing serious harm they can send up red sparks with their wand to get help. Won't that disqualify them?"

"Not from the whole Tournament, no. They'll fail that task but they may still get a score for anything they accomplished up to then," said Neville. "They'll go on to the next task anyway."

They both munched for a few seconds.

"So, they don't break the magical contract?"

"No, I reckon that contract must be only to stop time-wasters not turning up at all. Think of all the organising and costs that go into the Tournament – what a loss if half the Champions didn't go ahead!"

"RR-Right..." Harry could hear footsteps coming up the stair.

Ginny appeared at the open doorway. "Mad-eye wants you, Harry."

"Me? What for?"

"How should I know? Probably about the Tournament."

Harry sighed, got up, and headed downstairs.

"Want a biscuit, Ginny?" said Neville, hopefully.

"Wow, oatmeal! They're my favourites!"

"Oh, are they?"

.

~~~ The Crimson Flames ~~~

Moody was waiting at the door of his office when Harry arrived.

"Come with me, Potter," he growled.

Harry followed him into the room and Moody closed the door behind them with a lengthy incantation. Perhaps he mistook Harry's apprehension for curiosity, because he quickly explained, "Constant Vigilance, boy – even Merlin himself would take over an hour to get past that door."

"Sit down,' said the professor, and Harry sat, looking around as he did so.

The chamber was full of curious objects. On the desk was a Sneakoscope – which was about the only device that Harry recognised – but this one was much larger than the portable that Ron had bought him for his thirteenth birthday. There was a normal fireplace, though the flames within it were a deep flickering crimson and only occasionally changed briefly to the normal Floo green. What appeared to be a mirror hung opposite Harry on the wall, yet it was not reflecting the room. Shadowy figures were moving around inside it, none of them clearly in focus. On one wall was a rack of potion bottles, and above it a couple of bookshelves.

"Like my Dark detectors, do you?" said Moody, who had stood watching Harry very closely.

"Why's the Floo that colour?" said Harry, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"Noticed that too, I see. Dumbledore quite correctly pulled all Hogwarts' Floos off the network this year – except his own, of course. Mine's a last-resort emergency effort – don't worry, no one can sneak into Hogwarts using _that_ portal! Not only would it be extremely risky, it's outwards only and is not on the network – you keep away, you hear? You don't even want to know where that leads; wouldn't believe me if I told you. ... Might be a good idea if you don't mention it to anyone either," he added mysteriously.

"And that?" Harry asked, pointing at the mirror.

"Oh, that's my Foe-Glass. See them out there, skulking around? I'm not really in trouble until I see the whites of their eyes. That's when I open my trunk."

He let out a short, harsh laugh, and clumped over to the large trunk near the back wall. It had seven keyholes in a row. Harry wondered what was in there, until Moody's next question brought him sharply back to earth.

"So... found out about the first task, have you?"

Harry hesitated. He'd been afraid of this and was trying desperately to remember what conditions might break the contract.

"It's alright," said Moody, sitting down behind his desk and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. "That sort of cheating's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and always has been – just don't get caught!"

"I didn't cheat," said Harry sharply. "It was – a sort of accident that I found out."

Moody grinned. "I wasn't accusing you, laddie." He gave a harsh laugh, and his magical eye swivelled around so fast it made Harry feel queasy to watch it.

"So... got any ideas how you're going to deal with the first task?" the man said finally.

"Not really," said Harry. "I wondered about hovering over..."

Moody nodded approvingly. "That's a start – play to your strengths. I heard you're a damn good flier."

Harry's eyes lit up, and Moody nodded again in confirmation.

"But how do I get–?"

"Without giving anything away, my general advice," said Moody loudly, interrupting him, "would be to use your magic to get what you need."

Harry looked at him blankly.

"Come on, boy..." whispered Moody. "Put them together ... it's not that difficult..."

And it clicked. The two most magical objects he possessed – _Put them together._ It was foolproof, and even Moody couldn't complain he hadn't tried – it was _his_ idea!

Harry hurried off at the first opportunity to try out his scheme.

.

~~~ The First Task ~~~

"Harry! Good-oh!" said Bagman happily, on the morning of the First task. "Come in, come into the Champions' tent, make yourself at home! Take a seat!"

Harry walked stiffly over to the others but did not sit down. He noticed that Cedric Diggory was pacing nervously, though Victor Krum looked his usual surly self. Fleur Delacour perched on a stool in the corner, looking rather pale.

"Well, now we're all here – time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "I want each of you to select from this bag – he held up a huge sack of purple silk, and shook it at them – there are different varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too ... ah, yes ... your task is to collect a golden egg!"

Harry frowned. _Egg? What about the puzzle path? Perhaps the egg was at the end of the trail?_

"Youngest first," said Bagman, offering the bag to Harry.

Harry chewed his lip hesitantly, then reached in...

"AAAGH! IT BIT ME!" He pulled out what at first he thought was a squirming lizard whose jaws were firmly clamped onto his fingers – but this creature had wings and he quickly recognised what type of beast it must really be, having seen one in Hagrid's hut during his first year.

"It's a dragon!" he screamed.

Alarmed by the noise, the animal leapt onto his robes, flames gouting from its throat. "AAAGH! It's burning me!"

He swept it off him onto the floor and began swatting at his smouldering gown, but the creature looked ready to pounce on him again. Harry scurried away and turned furiously upon Bagman, (who had now driven the little animal into a corner with one sweep of his wand.)

"Are you ... totally ... mental!" Harry was coughing out a little smoke with each word. "I'm not fighting that thing! It's lethal!"

He looked around, and discovered that everyone was frowning at him.

"Well, it scratched me with it's spines, anyway!" He held out his finger, then began grumpily sucking the back of it when nobody seemed concerned.

"Uuh, Harry... that's just a harmless miniature representation of the one in the task," said Bagman. "Those are not real flames..."

"You mean...?"

"The real dragon is... somewhat larger, I'm afraid. You... er... didn't know?"

Harry almost sat down, feeling faint, but stopped himself. "How could I know?"

From Cedric's expression it was obvious he hadn't known either, but Fleur looked slightly embarrassed. Krum showed no reaction.

"How am I supposed to fight a full-sized dragon?" said Harry, weakly. "With my bare hands?"

"Well, um... you have a few minutes to prepare so..."

"A FEW MINUTES!" Harry broke out in a cold sweat. He really wanted to sit down but he couldn't; he had something hidden under his robes.

Bagman continued to let the others select their dragon and then rushed off to begin proceedings. Harry looked around at the others mournfully. He had to think – and fast. Then he remembered the plan he had arranged with Tonks, and had to hide his expression of relief. His scheme would work just as well with a dragon as with a puzzle path – so long as he didn't get eaten first!

A whistle blew outside.

"_HARRY POTTER, IF YOU PLEASE!_" came the announcement.

"Good luck, Harry," murmured Cedric, in a tone so worried that it wouldn't have encouraged an experienced gladiator, let alone a scared fourteen-year-old.

When Harry stumbled out, there were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him. And there was the dragon – a Horntail according to Bagman – at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, wings half furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly black brute, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. She seemed reluctant to leave her eggs, but how long would that last?

The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry didn't know or care. He looked up behind him. There was Tonks positioned perfectly – close to the Slytherins – to perform what she must. But now it was time for Harry to act out what _he_ had to do if he was to survive...

Crouching down, he slid out a concealed broom – the trusty Firebolt swaddled inside his invisibility cloak – then allowed the lower edge of the magical fabric to slide off, revealing part of the broomstick's bristles.

"CHEAT!" screamed Tonks at the top of her lungs (Harry imagined she had amplified her voice with a spell because even the dragon choked off its roaring in surprise.) "HE'S SMUGGLED IN A BROOMSTICK! HE'S NOTHING BUT A LOW-DOWN, DIRTY CHEAT!"

The charm-freed 'Doreen Briggs' was jumping up and down and pointing accusingly at Harry. Her face was livid with malice. The crowd, mostly on the Slytherin side, took up the chant amidst boos and catcalls. Nobody noticed that the original heckler – 'Doreen Briggs' – had once again faded into the background.

_Good one, Tonks,_ thought Harry, _surely now they must kick me out?_

"Ladies and Gentlemen," came the announcement, "The contestant is disqualified ... would you step out of the arena, please, Mr Potter."

Nothing could have pleased Harry more, but he made himself slouch and look as mournful as possible as he did so. He couldn't help noticing Luna clapping excitedly though – but anyway, everyone believed she was strange when really she's... not... much, thought Harry. Somehow, the new idea appealed to him.

.

~~~ Brief Debrief ~~~

"What happened, Potter!" bellowed Moody, the next day, slapping down a couple of newspapers onto his desktop with a gnarled hand. "You said you knew the first task! Didn't Hagrid speak to you in the Three Broomsticks that afternoon?"

Harry already was aware that the Prophet had focused on his apparent cowardice and attempt to cheat, but he now saw the Quibbler's headline for the first time:

OUTRAGE! AS 'TOURNAMENT' SETS  
DRAGON ON TERRIFIED BOY OF 14!  
MOTHERS WEEPING. (SEE PAGE 13)

Harry stifled a smile and explained, "I went very early to Hogsmeade."

"Then why did you say you knew!"

"I overhead Draco talking. He said–"

"Malfoy! And you believed him? Then you're a bigger fool than I took you for. And why cheat so carelessly? You were only allowed a wand, Potter!"

"But you said, play to my strengths. Use my magic, you said! Put them both together! I thought you meant my cloak and my broomstick!"

"I meant," glowered Moody, "put the Firebolt with the magic you've learned in class! The summoning charm, Potter!"

"The...? Ah... never quite mastered that one, Professor."

Moody sighed. "Well, at least you're not out of it yet. Get yourself focused on the next task in the New Year though if you want to have any chance of winning. You do want to win, don't you Potter?"

"More than anything, sir," lied Harry.

.

—oOo—

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* * *

**Author's Notes**

_That 'Hagrid not in the Three Broomsticks' was a bit lame, I admit. In the original, Harry, wearing his invisibility cloak, was with Hermione in the tavern, not Luna, and Luna had asked him to go early, and so Hagrid never saw him in my story to warn him about the dragons. Consequently he never told Cedric._

_Not much Luna in this chapter but will make up with it in the next when the story begins to get a bit more romantic, so don't go away, you Luna fans!_;)

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults — I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**\- Hippothestrowl**

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	4. Falling

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_So far... 4th-year Harry met Luna in 3rd-year Arithmancy, and though something about her appeals to him, he is uncomfortable about being seen with the eccentric girl. Meanwhile, someone entered him in the Triwizard Tournament. Harry openly cheats to get disqualified from the 1st task with the help of Tonks who has been assigned to protect him at Hogwarts... Now read on... _

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**Chapter 4**

**Falling**

* * *

.

~~~ A Big Ask ~~~

With the first task out of the way, a new difficulty soon faced Harry – one that scared him more than he cared to admit to anyone. Because of it – and despite the commencement of the Christmas break and with no daily lessons to worry about – Harry felt kind of shrivelled up inside. The problem was that McGonagall had informed the school there would be a Yule Ball on Christmas day and had insisted that Harry, as a Hogwarts Champion, _must_ not only attend the dance but he had to bring a partner and _lead_ the dance with the other champions! Raised in a cupboard, Harry had no idea how to dance, even less how to ask a girl to a banquet. Chickening out of a dragon fight seemed quite respectable compared to the embarrassment of stumbling around partnerless before the entire school while the other champions swirled professionally around him.

He clutched his stomach and looked mournfully across the common room at Ron who was in deep conversation with Lavender Brown and grinning smugly in Harry's general direction now and again.

_Arrogant git,_ thought Harry. _He doesn't even need to go to the ball if he doesn't want!_ But after a few moments he regretted his instinctive jealousy, and miserable that he was alienated from his friend. Ron had been a good mate and any other time would have swapped him Lavender in a flash in payment for the Omnioculars he'd gifted him at the World Quidditch match. Maybe they might even have found someone else for Ron afterwards. His eyes roved around the other Gryffindor girls. _Oh, come on! I'm the Boy-who-can't-dance, surely one of you might take pity on me..._

Tonks, sitting cross-legged atop a tall cabinet by the wall, was head-shaking a _Don't you dare ask me!_ at him. He knew exactly why. As champion, Harry would have to be _seen_ to bring a partner, and they couldn't risk drawing attention to 'Doreen Briggs.' His gaze continued its tour...

_Hermione! She's a girl!_

He was on his feet in a moment. He could see how unhappy his friend looked, even with her face lowered to the book on her knees, trying to pretend she wasn't interested in the commotion around her as if the coming party wasn't important to her.

Harry stopped midway. He had remembered Tonks's words about him being Hermione's true love. He'd never believed it of course. But suppose...?

Was that why she looked so wretched? So melancholy? Because he had not already asked her? Surely nobody could love him that much, especially someone like Hermione. And yet she seemed so distraught. Compassion stirred his heart. He resumed a slow walk, trying to look casual, but inside he was hurting for his friend.

"Hi," he said, winkling a timid first-year boy out of the seat next to Hermione so he could lean over close and not be overheard.

"Oh, hello, Harry." Hermione politely closed her book. "How's your day been so far?"

"Would you go to the ball with me, Hermione?" The words rushed out with the tone of urgent desperation he had honed when begging help with homework. This was his best friend, after all. She'd always been there for him.

Hermione stared ... "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry ... someone's already asked me..." She watched his expression, saw his shock and his disappointment. _Oh, God, surely Harry's not...? With me...? He couldn't be, could he? ... We're just friends. He must know that._

"Ah, good. That's good then," he said. "Yes... it's good that you've... well, I erm... well, I thought I'd ask you first since we're erm... good."

She was still looking at him intently. "Thank you for asking, Harry. I would have loved to have gone with you."

"Right. That's erm... good then."

"How about Ginny? She likes to dance and she's very accomplished at it; I think she said Luna taught her."

Harry's eyes lit up. _Ginny, of course!_ She'd had a tremendous crush on him before – she would snatch his hand off if he offered it to take her to the ball!

He dashed away, looking wildly about for Ron's sister. "Thanks, Hermione!" he called back excitedly.

Hermione was pointing up to the girls' dorms and made a motion of brushing her hair. Harry nodded. He could wait a few minutes...

The window seat that Ginny favoured drew him in and he sank down onto it and considered how lucky he would be to have the redhead by his side as he led the ball before the jealous and admiring stares of everyone! She was quite pretty after all, well-liked, and, as Hermione had said, a wonderful dancer, while he... he had two left feet!

_Oh my God! How am I supposed to learn to dance in a couple of days!_ He shrivelled up again. ... Hermione could teach him! His back straightened up again. What had she said? _Ginny's very accomplished; I taught her._ He frowned. _No, I think she said Luna taught Ginny!_

Harry was out of the portrait hole faster than a slick arrow from a greasy bow. He tore across the school corridors in the direction he had often seen Luna heading when she left Arithmancy. _She'll have some magic cards to make it easy! Tango in ten minutes! Flamenco in five!_ A vision of him fast-stamping dramatically out into the Great Hall exploded into his mind, synchronising with the sound of his running feet. All would gasp at his dramatic entrance! Castanets clacking in one hand, a rose between his gleaming-white teeth, and the beautiful Ginny Weasley swooning in his arms! He would–

CRASH!

"I say, watch ... where ... you're going ... Potter!" gasped Flitwick. His bag, books, and parchments were scattered at the foot of the steep staircase down which he had just descended. The little man grimaced as he picked himself up off the hallway floor and leaned against the bottom step, trying to recover his breath.

"Sorry, Professor, erm... which way is uuh... the Ravenclaw Tower?"

"Well, considering I'm just trying to walk out of it, I'd deduce that those stairs in front of you lead up it, wouldn't you?" He flicked his wand and the fallen books and papers jostled and scrambled back into his bag.

"Oh, right... erm...?"

"Do you know how to get into the common room? I assume that's where you're headed?"

"Ah... is there a password?"

Flitwick shook his head in resignation. "Come on..."

They climbed in tight, dizzying circles; Harry had never been up here before. At last they reached a door. There was no handle and no keyhole: nothing but a plain expanse of aged wood, and a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.

Flitwick stretched up and rapped it once only, saying to it as he did so, "Better keep it simple for our young friend here."

At once the beak of the eagle opened and a soft, musical voice said, "Very well. ... Say 'silk' five times, spell it, then can you tell me what cows drink?"

"Milk," said Harry, without hesitation.

Flitwick rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor. "I'd have thought even you would have known that cows drink water, Potter."

The professor turned back to the eagle. "Silk, silk, silk, silk, silk. I. T. Yes."

"Literally correct," said the knocker, "You may pass." The door swung open.

A push from behind on the back of his knees, and Harry found himself alone facing a crowd of surprised Ravenclaws.

"Erm..." His voice sound very small, and somehow he wished he had a little cap he could doff. "_Is Luna here?_"

"LOOOO – NEEEEE!" shouted two or three voices in an out-of-step sing-song tone, followed by an outbreak of giggles.

Harry blinked.

"Oh, hello, Harry." Luna was coming down the dormitory stairs. "Are we going for a walk?"

Harry turned very pink and was glad to get out of there, with or without 'Loony'.

"Do they really call you that?" he called after her as she skipped down ahead of him.

"Yes. That's alright. What did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I... What I wanted to say was... there's something really important I wanted to ask you."

Luna stopped her descent of the stair, turned slowly around towards him, then moved gently back to his step where she gazed up at his face, her eyes bright with emotion. "Yes, Harry?"

"I wondered if..."

"Yes?" The eagerness in her expression troubled Harry for some reason.

"Your magical cards... is it possible for them to teach me to dance in two days?"

Luna remained silent and motionless on the stone.

"Luna?"

"To teach you...?" she murmured.

"Yeah..."

She appeared to regain her composure. "I'd love to teach you to dance, Harry Potter."

.

~~~ A Slow Lesson ~~~

An empty classroom provided a perfect space to practise. Luna took a pastille from her purse and popped it into her mouth while she gathered her thoughts. Several desks hovered away from the centre under Luna's direction, then she threw off her school robes leaving just a plain grey dress with a blue-dyed sash cord for a belt, held out her arms slightly and began swaying as she hummed softly to herself.

"Why do you take those lozenges, Luna? Do you suffer from sore throats?"

"Since Mum died I get somniculosus – it means I get absent-minded – so the healers tell me to use them when I need to sharpen my wits for something really important. I told them I get my best ideas when I'm feeling dreamy but they reminded me that, _Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure!_ Come on, Harry, join in!"

"Er... don't you need your cards?" said Harry, laying his robes aside and checking if his shirt and jeans weren't too grubby.

"Perhaps later, but for now the cards won't help. We'll be learning the slow dance - it's the easiest and there's not much time left, is there?"

"The 'slow dance'? Are you sure that's a real dance?"

"Oh, yes."

"And real easy? I'm worried about tripping over and making a fool of myself in front of everybody."

"You need only remain head over heels, then it would be impossible to fall over, wouldn't it?"

Harry considered that for a while. "And it's...?"

"The slow dance is very forgiving so you needn't worry about mistakes."

"Oooh...kay..."

"Would you like to sway and turn with me, Harry?" She began to hum more loudly. "Just do what I'm doing but in your own way."

"What, standing where I am?"

"Anywhere." She did a half-turn left and right, still with her arms slightly away from herself.

"But this is silly. It isn't even a proper dance..."

Luna stopped her movements and swallowed her lozenge. "You're right – it isn't. But you can't dance with anyone until you learn to move to the rhythm, can you? Otherwise both partners will be moving differently, you see? Dancers should be in harmony together."

Harry frowned, one-eyeing the classroom entrance rather sullenly. "I suppose..."

"Don't you believe me? ... Or is it you're still uncomfortable with...?" Luna frowned then went over to the door and cast a locking charm upon it. "There, now nobody will see you with me, will they?"

"It's not that, but..."

Luna began humming again and resumed her slow movements. "You see how easy it is?"

Harry bit his lip. With one last glance at the door he made a few tentative half-sways, feeling like an idiot.

"That's it!" cried Luna. "See if you can mirror how I move now..."

Harry did so. The action reminded him of her Arithmancy help – so incredibly simple that there was nothing really that could go wrong, and it was not long before he began to relax. After fifteen minutes they took a few minutes rest while Luna explained how to sense which way she was going to move. She took a bottle of pumpkin juice out of her bag and they took it in turns to sip it.

"At a real dance, your girlfriend will follow you, but you can't lead until you first learn to follow, can you?"

"She's not my girlfriend, Luna!" said Harry. "Well, you probably know she's had a crush on me since she was little, but we don't talk to each other much."

Luna drank some juice and examined Harry's expression thoughtfully before replying. "That's nice. When you're close to someone you don't always need words."

"Erm... we're not really that close, to be honest."

"You're not? But... you just... cuddle sometimes?"

"NO!" cried Harry. "Ginny's not like that! She's Ron's sister!"

"Oh, I meant your other girlfriend." She passed the juice to him and he accepted the bottle in a daze.

"What girlfriend?" he croaked. He knocked back a big gulp of juice to ease his suddenly-very-dry throat.

"I, don't know her name. She seems nice though. Sometimes she looks very... grown up when she's hugging you."

"Hermione?"

"No, your other girlfriend. The one who squeezes you in the corridors." Luna wrapped her arms around herself and rocked from side to side, illustrating what she meant.

Harry just managed to twist his head to one side to avoid spraying Luna with pumpkin juice. "Tonks is ... not my ... girlfriend!" he coughed and spluttered.

"That's a strange name."

"I mean, Doreen, her name's Doreen. How could you even see us anyway?"

"Not Tonks?"

Harry sighed. The game was up and anyway, he didn't want to openly lie to Luna. "Look, it's hush-hush, okay?"

"Oh, a secret love affair! How romantic!" Luna clasped her hands together.

Harry began, "No! It's not like that! She–"

But Luna had turned thoughtful again and cut him off. "If she's your secret love then how can you dance with her at the ball?

"We won't be together! Look, she's not my secret love, alright?" He took another swig of juice and thrust the bottle back at Luna.

He could almost see her thinking as she stood there staring at him, trying to work it out. "So you're not taking her to the ball?"

"No. Look, you may as well know – but don't tell anyone else – she's an Auror assigned to protect me. It was your idea, remember! She's much too old for me but she can make herself look young."

Luna's mouth fell open. "And she...?"

"She only pretends to cuddle me as a cover for her operations."

Luna nodded slowly. "She's very good at pretending..."

"Look, shall we continue?" said Harry, peevishly trying to change the subject.

Luna's eyes had turned dreamy again. "Uuh... yes, of course..."

She corked the bottle and put it back in her bag. "Now this time, let _me_ follow _you,_" she said. "The lady usually follows the gentleman."

They continued until Harry began to relax again. It was strangely pleasant watching Luna's body move in unison with his while she gazed into his eyes, gauging his intentions. The girl gradually moved closer until she was only a step or two away.

"_Now_ you're ready to dance with me," she said firmly. Luna reached forward and took Harry's hand while the fingers of her other hand touched lightly upon his waist. "I'll lead again until you're comfortable. "You can rest your other hand on my shoulder if you want, else it will dangle all over the place like a wet sausage. I'll signal our movements with my hand and also my eyes so watch them very closely. Don't worry about stepping on my toes – you automagically won't – not if you continue what you've been doing."

Turning together was now much easier. Harry felt light, and even lightheaded. He had to concentrate on her hand pressure and her eye movements but it became a beautifully relaxed focus after a while. Now and again, she changed the music she was humming but the slow tempo was always the same.

"What's that one called?" he said. "I know that tune but..."

Luna shook her head. "I heard it when I was little. My mum used to sing it to me when I was tiny but I only remember the melody. You lead now, Harry. Swap hands and put the other one on my waist – that's it. The rest is mostly practice..."

"Hmm... mmm... mmm..." her lilting tones were very soothing.

Harry gasped. "It's Elvis! How'd your mum know a Muggle song?"

"Who?" said Luna. "Oh, do you know the words? Sing them to me, Harry..."

Harry was suddenly out of step and they came to a stumbling halt. "Erm... I don't really know the words that well. Anyway, I can't sing."

"Just hum it with me then. Sing one or two words when you feel like it. Put both your hands round my waist now we're closer – that's the complete slow dance – and it's easier for you to feel I'm moving smoothly with you."

Harry was happy to continue. He was enjoying the lesson and... Luna's company. Her fragrance had now become so light it was lifting him higher and higher. She seemed to float in his arms, matching his every move...

"Hmm... mmm... mmm... Shall ... I ... stay..." he faltered, a little self-consciously and off-key. She nodded encouragingly.

"Only fools ... rush ... in..."

Harry was losing himself in the moment. Somehow her eyes were intoxicating him. He could hear Hermione's voice in his head. _oh, Harry, please be careful! Don't let her get you alone!_ But he didn't care anymore. Something new had happened to him. He wanted to die right here if necessary rather than leave.

"Hmm... mmm... mmm... some things ... are meant to be..."

"That's nice," said Luna, gently. Her face was tucked against his throat, looking up. He felt a soft warmth flooding him inside. Without him knowing how, they were much, much nearer than Harry remembered they had begun.

"Take ... my ... hand ... take my whole ... life ... too..."

Luna's eyes smiled into his.

"For I ... can't ... help ... falling in..."

Harry broke away, blinking rapidly as if he had awoken from a mysterious dream. "My homework! Just remembered, I've got to finish geography, I mean, erm... astrography, of course... uuh..."

He fled to the door and heard it unlock as he approached. "Gotta dash. See you in uuh..."

Then he was gone, leaving Luna standing there in wonder.

.

~~~ The Emptiness ~~~

Harry stayed in bed late on Christmas Eve morning, grabbed a snack off Neville for lunch (which for some reason the boy often had with him, especially if Ginny was not far off,) then hid away in the far side of the library, confused about his feelings and what he should do. By the time darkness fell, he had convinced himself he wasn't hungry enough for dinner and didn't need any further dance lessons, so he returned to the Gryffindor common room, sure of his original plan and ready to wait. But there she already was, and alone in her favourite place at the window. This would be easier than he thought.

"Hey, Ginny!" he said briskly, sitting down close by her side, "how about the Yule Ball tomorrow? You and me? It'll be fun. You shouldn't miss it."

"I'm not going to miss it, thank you very much Harry," she said with flaring eyes that sliced right through him. "Neville and I will be there together, worrying about Luna."

"Great! So–? Eh? What?" Had he heard right? "You and...? What do you mean? What's happened to Luna?"

"Some arrogant, misbegotten creep just clawed out her bleeding heart and stomped all over it, that's what's happened to her! She was sobbing inconsolably last time I saw her. I don't remember ever seeing her really cry before – not even when she lost her mum..." Ginny was positively shaking; the magical flame of the candle at her side guttered out briefly leaving them both in dark shadow, then it recovered.

"Who! Who was it! I'll kill him! They treat her like dirt up there!"

"Must be highly contagious then; it's a regular epidemic."

Harry frowned. "What are you on about?"

"I'm on about anyone who's too ashamed of being seen with Luna in public must be badly infected with their own self-importance!"

There were hurried footsteps overhead, pounding down towards them.

"Everything alright, Ginny?" Neville had come from his dormitory to see what the noise was about.

"No, it's not alright, Neville. I feel sort of ... dirty being so near this contaminated heap of dung. Let's go to dinner. Here you are, Harry, Merry Christmas!"

"Wh-What's this?"

"It's an empty paper bag. You can stick it over Luna's head tomorrow if you want. Maybe then she'll be good enough for you."

Numbly, Harry watched them leave.

He sat there frozen for many minutes, holding the bag's emptiness and thinking bad thoughts about himself. Somewhere far off he heard carols being sung, carried aloft by the crisp, night air. There was a purity to the sound that cut him deeply. Perhaps it was snowing, but he could not lift his head one inch to look.

In time, he wiped his eyes and went out. He knew now where the Ravenclaw common room was without asking. As he passed the marble stairs, he could hear warm, animated chatter and laughter from the Great Hall, but all he felt was a cold, cold stone within.

"Merry Christmas, Harry!" greeted Nearly-headless Nick as he glided past, heading for the feast.

"Yeah..." muttered Harry. "_yeah..._"

The Ravenclaw stairs seemed much longer and steeper somehow. Quieter too, for all students were munching pies and cakes down in the Hall, and no doubt gleefully looking forward to the morrow.

When he reached the top, and knocked, the bronze eagle said, "The more there is, the less you see. Where are you?"

"No idea," said Harry gloomily, "Can't you just tell me? I'm completely in the dark."

"Nicely worded."

The door swung open then closed behind him as he dragged his legs past the threshold.

Something hit him hard and he was knocked back against the door. The collision had caused a screeching in his ear so intense that, in his already confused state, he was unable to grasp what was happening. It felt like a full Body-bind curse only tighter and hotter and noisier. Was he being crushed?

"Harry! I didn't think you'd come!"

Luna's arms and legs were so wrapped around him that he looked like a half-opened Christmas gift during a pause of eye-popping astonishment.

"Luna?"

He couldn't see her face – it was buried in his neck – but he recognised her long straggly hair and the perfume of heaven.

"Came ... to ... 'pologise..." he gasped. It was hard to breathe.

"You came – that's all that matters," she said happily, still clinging to him like he was going to have to walk about for the rest of his life with her permanently bolted on to him. "Some things are meant to be..." she added.

When she finally lowered herself to the ground, still gripping his arms, he saw her eyes were sore from weeping.

"I'm so, so sorry, Luna, I..."

"It's alright. Do you want to go somewhere private? They'll all be back from dinner soon and this place will be very busy."

"Frankly, Luna, I don't care anymore where I am – I'm proud to be with you. And I'm begging – if you'll forgive me and be friends again – will you go to the Yule Ball with me tomorrow night?"

Her eyes, already bright, broadened with delight. "I'd love to go to the ball with you and be friends again!"

"Maybe more than friends?" he whispered in her ear.

Luna physically shuddered with rapture against him, and, breathless with passion, struggled to answer him, "W-whuh ... whuh ... we ... hhaa-hha-have to ... re-heugh-her-hearse ... th-then." She clasped his hand and led him down to the spare classroom they had used before.

"You mean dancing, right?" said Harry, nervously.

Unable to speak, Luna panted a funny squeaky giggle before they resumed practising...

.

~~~ The Yule Ball ~~~

On Christmas evening, the Entrance Hall was filled with students waiting for the doors to the Great Hall to open for the Yule Ball to commence at eight. Many, Harry included, whose partners came from a different house, were nervously searching to meet up with them. Harry had almost been late for the time he had arranged with Luna, and immediately his eyes had begun darting about, looking for anyone odd-looking, someone perhaps in a dotty colour-clash trouser suit, or even wearing gardening gloves and a straw hat – he didn't mind so long as she was there.

But she wasn't.

The front doors opened and Krum – with a pretty girl at his side of course – led the Durmstrangs in, followed by Fleur Delacour and the Beauxbatons.

Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"

In a panic, Harry turned to run up the Grand Staircase to find his own partner, but he stopped himself immediately; most of the packed crowd paused in their chatter too.

Descending the steps alone, and wearing an elegant, full-length gown of yellow and white silks, was Luna. Her blonde hair now cascaded into broad golden ringlets held on one side by an enchanted silver crescent matching the colour of her shoes. A delicate blue moonflower offset – transparent next her heart – did not jolt Harry in the slightest.

For a few moments, there was confusion amongst others as to who she might be, then gasps and exclamations were uttered from all directions – except Harry's.

"You ... uuh ... look really nice," he said awkwardly.

"Ginny helped with my hair," she smiled, "and Dad Flooed Mum's ballgown. I didn't want you to be too... uncomfortable with me."

The way she looked tonight, Harry felt _he_ was the one dragging _her_ down. He brushed wild fingers self-consciously down his own dress robes then Luna took his arm.

"Are we quite ready?" barked McGonagall, yet there was a bright glint in her eye, and her voice faltered oh, so slightly.

The doors to the Great Hall opened and the deputy headmistress ushered everyone through while the champions and their partners were held back to one side in preparation for their grand entrance. Cedric and Cho led the procession amid much fanfare up to the top table. Harry and Luna brought up the rear. Harry could hear everyone in the Hall applauding the champions ahead of him so he attempted to bring his hands together too. But he was concentrating so hard on not tripping over his own feet, and Luna was hanging on to one of his arms so fiercely, that his hand-clapping was feeble at best, and so the pair of them finished up lagging a few steps behind the others.

The applause had died away before they reached the table, leaving Luna to guide the bemused boy to their seats in an awkward silence. But conversations resumed very quickly and good food was provided on golden plates. The feast was consumed in the background of a kind of glorious bubble in which Harry imagined himself alone with Luna.

"I feel like a princess," said Luna, happily reaching for a delicate Crème caramel pudding to round off the meal, "sitting here at the head of the Hall." She seemed completely oblivious of the confused glances that came their way – to her because she normally looked and behaved so oddly, and to Harry for being the 'Boy-who-cheated.'

Nevertheless, he was also the boy who had vanquished You-know-who, some were saying, and she's... so _different_ tonight.

And there _was_ something changed about Luna Lovegood. The girl still had faraway eyes yet sparkling therein was an increased awareness of the world around her, even without a pastille.

The performers on stage struck up a slow, romantic waltz and Luna was the first to rise. Harry tripped over his dress robes as he stood up but Luna steered him gracefully onto the brightly-lit dance floor while squeezing his hand in hers. All the lanterns had dimmed around the surrounding tables and the champions were once again the centre of attention – especially Harry and Luna. He had a frozen moment of awful stagefright... then Luna, still holding his hand, placed her other one upon his shoulder, and Harry instinctively reached for her waist. She began to hum to the melody and Harry led her into the dance.

Their locked eyes were key – as he had been taught – so much so that Luna had to remind him there were now other dancers and it was recommended that he look for an open space among them while moving her around.

"Doesn't Hermione look just wonderful," sighed Luna.

"Hermione? Where?" Harry had scarcely noticed anyone else here tonight. He turned his head briefly. She was dancing with Victor Krum. He hardly knew it was Hermione until she smiled uncertainly at him and mouthed "Hi!". Was she still doubting Luna? Or was she as confused as the rest of the guests.

Beyond Hermione, he now became aware of a sea of faces, many of them furtively glancing their way. All the teachers were there of course, but the students – was that envy he saw in many of their expressions? He looked back at his girl. She smiled, and they moved a little closer.

When they finally sat down, they found themselves at Neville and Ginny's table. Harry took from his pocket a folded paper bag and laid it on the table for them to see for a few moments before putting it carefully away again. "Thanks for nothing, Ginny; best present I ever had."

"Make it last," she warned him with a grim smile.

At the end of the evening, Harry swayed very closely with Luna for the final dance, gradually moving her to one side of the Great Hall where the garlands of ivy and ice-frosted decorations were particularly thick. Out of the corner of his eye he saw many were still scrutinising them: Snape and Dumbledore and Moody of course, Malfoy was scowling, but the Delacours and all the Weasleys, and even the Patils showed no disapproval. For one fleeting moment, Ron caught his eye and Harry thought he saw remorse and... was that _distress?_

"Luna, I don't know why people can act so stupid. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry I was such a pillock before. I didn't appreciate you for yourself and was embarrassed because... well..."

"Because I'm different?"

"Well, yeah, but then... I suppose everyone sees me as different too."

"That's alright," replied Luna as she snuggled closer, both still swaying to the last song, "we can be different together."

Harry nodded gently against her hair. "Look up," he said in a tone that matched her dreaminess, and pointing at a large clump of white berries over their heads. "Mistletoe."

"Careful, the Nargles have their eyes on us too..." she cautioned.

"I don't care who's watching us anymore," said Harry. He looked at her uncertainly and rather hungrily for a few moments. She held up a card until it went blank. "Right, got it..." he said, then he tilted his head, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers.

.

~~~ The Promise ~~~

"That's January's Quibbler?" Harry almost choked on his Butterbeer as he stared at the headline.

HARRY POTTER FINDS COMFORT IN  
CHILDHOOD SWEETHEART DESPITE  
ATTEMPT TO END HIS LIFE IN TASK!

Below it was Colin's photograph of them kissing under the mistletoe.

Luna smiled at him across their table in the Three Broomsticks during the first Hogsmeade weekend of the new year.

"What about your dad?" said Harry, as he had a sudden vision of himself being chased by an angry man with long blond hair and a vicious pitchfork.

"Oh, he trusts you. He told me not to bother with exultantis a long time ago. Said you were protection enough."

Harry's jaw dropped and he drooled Butterbeer. "You're not wearing your special fragrance? You're not beguiling me anymore?"

"Oh, Harry, I never was enchanting you."

He wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "Then why am I so...?"

"Do you want a pastille, Harry? You're looking at me very dreamily all of a sudden."

He grinned and shook himself upright.

Luna's eyes opened more brightly. "Yet you still came to me..."

"Yeah, well... honestly, it just felt right."

Her eyes flickered over his shoulder as she whispered, "Be vigilant, Harry."

"Planning for the next task, are we, Potter? Got everything under control? Considering your strengths, are you?" It was Moody who had walked up behind him.

"Yes, sir. I've got it all worked out, thanks."

"Wouldn't involve cheating, now would it?" Moody frowned.

"Not at all, sir."

"Right, laddie. You know where I am if you need me." He stomped off towards the bar, his peg leg banging heavily on the thick oak floorboards.

"Have you really given the next task any thought at all?" asked Luna.

"Can't, can I? The others all got an egg clue. I've no idea what I'll face – and I daren't cheat a second time."

"Let's do what he said then, and consider your strengths and weaknesses." Luna took out a handful of blank cards and a pen.

"Can you do puzzles, solve crosswords, unjumble words?" she asked. "Can you run, jump, climb, swim, somersault, cartwheel, stand on your head, walk on your hands, ride a horse?"

"I can't even ride a bike, Luna. I was never allowed to do anything like that. ... I can run away and climb a tree though!" he added brightly. "Oh, and I rode a Hippogriff last year – but puzzles I'm not so good at."

"Then how did you get into the Ravenclaw common room, Harry?" she frowned.

"Luna," said Harry, "I'm just the luckiest person alive, that's how." He looked at her cards. "There's one month left; perhaps I can learn to solve puzzles?"

"I suggest you learn to dig, Potter," came a voice over his left shoulder.

"Push off, Malfoy! There's no Snape here to protect you and... where are your..._things?_" Harry looked around for Crabbe and Goyle.

"Detentions. They were trying to create a voodoo doll. Personally, I'd have given them fifty points each." He made a pin-jabbing motion with his hand and grinned maliciously.

"They were probably making it under your instructions," said Luna, quietly.

"Who asked you, Lovegood? Oh, I forgot, you actually are a dozy fetish puppet, aren't you?" His eyes went glazed and cross-eyed with his tongue lolling out for a few moments.

Furious, Harry half rose to his feet but Draco was already striding off to meet with a large group of Slytherins hovering around the doorway.

"Remember what I said, Potter..." He made a shovelling motion with his arms.

"He's just trying to trick me again," said Harry, trying to settle himself in his chair once again. "You don't suppose he really does know anything this time, do you?"

"I think he just meant you should prepare to dig your own grave, Harry," said Luna solemnly.

"Ah... right." He glanced back towards the door but Draco and his friends had all gone. _What if he really does know something though?_ he pondered. _What if he knows I'm going to die in the next task?_

He felt Luna's hand on his. "All you can do is take no risks – that is your right. Promise me, Harry. Promise me you'll take no chances."

Harry looked Luna in the eye thoughtfully. "I promise."

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_There are two more chapters to come which I've finished and only need to review and polish off. So, you might have noticed I'm publishing a bit faster now – every four or five days instead of weekly. No point in keeping you waiting. _

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults — I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**\- Hippothestrowl**

.


	5. A Suffocating Task

.

_So far... After Luna taught him to dance, Harry breaks her heart by not asking her to the Yule Ball. Ginny scolds Harry into realising that Luna is far more important to him than what others think of his being associated with such an unusual girl. Harry and Luna finally kiss under the mistletoe at the feast and become inseparable. But Harry still has the second task of the Tournament to face. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 5**

**A Suffocating Task**

* * *

.

~~~ The Drowning ~~~

"The Deputy Headmistress wishes to see you, Miss Lovegood," squeaked little Flitwick from somewhere near Luna's left kneecap.

"She wants _me?_ and this early?" Luna's surprise showed in her face. "It's not yet breakfast time. There might be chocolate fudgy bears to rescue from syrup!"

"Right away!" insisted the professor. "No excuses!" _Not even Fudgy bears,_ he smiled to himself as one of his favourite Ravenclaws hurried off downstairs.

Hardly anyone was yet up and about in the corridors of Hogwarts Castle as Luna continued on her way to McGonagall's office. The door was ajar and swung open almost before she knocked.

Luna quickly blinked away her sleepiness. A very young girl with silvery-blonde hair took her hand and led her further inside. "We must 'urry, zee others 'ave nearly finished."

Luna's eyes were now wide open. The limp body of Cho Chang was being carefully hovered past her by Madam Pomfrey. Cho's face was shimmering strangely, Luna noticed. Hermione Granger was there too, in a similar condition but slumping from a chair against the wall where, using his wand, Dumbledore drew her into the air like spun candyfloss.

"Take a seat, Gabrielle," said McGonagall to the young child.

"Oui, madame."

As he was passing the unconscious Hermione to Madame Pomfrey, Dumbledore glanced at Luna. "Ah, Miss Lovegood, we require your services for the next task. Each champion will have to rescue the one they will miss most, and who will be anchored at the bottom of the lake until–"

Luna's mouth fell open in alarm. "But I can't swim, Headmaster."

"You won't drown, Miss Lovegood, see...?" Dumbledore pointed as McGonagall swept her wand past Gabrielle's face and a large bubble of water enwrapped the youngster's face. The little girl clutched frantically at her throat, then, finding herself breathing the liquid, nodded in astonishment and tried to say, "Nothing 'as changed," but the sound was dull, as though far away.

McGonagall explained, "Don't worry, the charm will also keep you warm, and your voice, like your breathing, will restore to normal when next you surface." Another wave of her wand and the little Beauxbatons girl fell into a bewitched sleep.

"Just relax, Miss Lovegood," smiled Dumbledore. "You'll be perfectly safe, I assure you, and will know nothing until you awaken again on dry land..."

Luna imagined herself tied up helplessly below the black lake waters. And how might she help Harry if he needed her? – he couldn't swim either! The anxious girl had to think quickly; she must sharpen her wits. McGonagall was already guiding her down onto a chair, despite the girl trying to hang back. As she lowered her face, Luna slipped a pastille into her mouth to help keep her mind from drifting. Instantly, the answer was obvious. Two more of the lozenges she mouthed – both under her tongue.

McGonagall's wand swooped and Luna panicked as her face was smothered in cold water. She forced herself to breathe it in through her nose...

"Alright?" said McGonagall, not unkindly.

Luna nodded in surprise, and gave a thumbs up.

"Very well..." The wand waved once more...

.

~~~ The Birth of Aphrodite ~~~

Despite intending to take no risks, Harry was nervous at breakfast that morning. There was no Luna at the Ravenclaw table – he had hoped for a smile of support at least. Even Hermione had deserted him. Oh, well...

Without appetite, he surveyed the range of glistening eggs, greasy bacon, and bloated sausages, then decided he might manage one or two fudgy bears in milk. He took up his spoon and stirred them around...

"It's water, Harry!" gasped Ginny, as she dropped into the chair beside him. "I just heard – Fred and George saw stands erected down by the lake! It's something to do with water! Oh, Harry, can you...?" She gestured with her arms.

"Swim? No, I can't," said Harry, morosely, "I can't bloody do anything, can I?"

"Did you learn the summoning charm yet, like Hermione suggested? Perhaps you could fly over the waves on your Firebolt?"

Harry shook his head, which had sunk even lower by this time. The fudgies looked up at him sympathetically.

"Oh, Harry..."

The boy felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Potter, the champions have to come down to the lake now ... you have to get changed for the second task.". It was McGonagall.

"Okay," said Harry, standing up, his spoon falling into the dish with a splash.

"Good luck, Harry," Ginny whispered. "You'll be fine!"

"Yeah," said Harry, in a voice that was most unlike his own.

He left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem herself, either; in fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Ginny. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold February morning, she stopped and turned to face him.

"Now, don't panic," she said, "just keep a cool head ... we've got wizards on hand to control the situation if it gets out of hand ... the main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you ... are you alright?"

"Yes," Harry heard himself say in a daze. "Yes, I'm fine."

"And don't worry about Miss Lovegood."

She was leading him behind the stands beside the edge of the lake. Harry saw that a large tent had been erected. What had she said? About Luna? Had his girlfriend fallen ill? Was she in the hospital wing? "Professor...?"

"A wetsuit has been provided. You can change in there." Her voice was no more than a dry croak.

Startled, Harry looked up at her face properly for the first time. "So, it really is swimming in uuh... real water?"

Whatever McGonagall replied he could not tell, for her lips moved, but all he could hear was a sobbing sound which became quickly stifled with one swiftly-cupped hand. The old teacher then hurried off, leaving him alone before the tent flap.

The inside of the marquee was divided into canvas-walled compartments. He wanted to drag out the changing for as long as possible; the wetsuit was a struggle to get into anyway. He thought about Luna alone in a hospital bed, perhaps sick or injured. But he did not know that for sure. She might just as well be... she might be in danger! He tugged hard at the costume he had been given. Was it too small? Or was it because he was rigid with fear that he could scarcely pull it on?

Then, in a flash, _his_ danger and Luna's unknown situation came together in his head, and it was obvious to him where she was: Luna would be his task – she had to be out on the lake! The objective must be to swim out and tow her to safety. If only he had known, he need not have had to swim! If he had just listened to Hermione for once, he could have summoned his broomstick – or a small dinghy! He could have rowed out to where Luna's boat was moored! His shoulders sagged so low it actually made it easier to pull over the straps of his wetsuit.

But now, he had no excuse to tarry. Outside he could hear the audience gathering ... then growing impatient. He dare not delay any longer. With a sigh, he stepped outside.

Dumbledore smiled distantly at Harry, but Karkaroff and Madame Maxime didn't look at all pleased to see him; it was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had thought he wasn't going to ever come out of the changing tent.

Harry bent over, hands on his knees, feeling sick; drowning was something that happened in far off places that you read about in a newspaper. It was a way of dying that he instinctively dreaded, and it awaited him in these dark, brooding waters that he dare not lift his head to observe.

Ludo Bagman was moving among the champions, spacing them along the bank at intervals of ten feet. Harry was on the very end of the line, next to Krum, who was wearing very brief swimming trunks, and proudly swelling out his bare chest in defiance of the cold weather. His wand was ready in his hand being swished recklessly about.

Harry fumbled his own wand out from his top, dropped it, then slipped over in the mud trying to pick it up. He wiped the slime off it through the crook of his arm, then changed his mind and slipped the wand back down his top. What could he do with it anyway without the summoning spell? His nausea increased as he struggled to straighten up.

"All right, Harry?" Bagman whispered, as he moved Harry a few feet further away from Krum. "Know what you're going to do?"

"Yeah," Harry panted, _I'm going to die._

Bagman gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. "That's the spirit!"

The man returned to the judges' table, pointed his wand at his throat, said "Sonorus!" and his voice boomed out to the spectators.

"Well, all our champions are eager for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One ... two ... three!"

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold air, and the stands erupted with cheers and applause. Without looking to see what the other champions were doing, Harry waded out into the lake.

The lake was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as though this was fire, not icy water. His fear increased as he walked in deeper; now the water was over his knees, and his rapidly numbing feet were slipping over silt and flat, slimy stones. Waist-deep in the freezing water he stopped. _What do I do now?_

He could hear laughter in the crowd behind, and knew he must appear very stupid, walking into the lake without showing any sign of a plan. The part of him that was still dry was covered in goose pimples. Half-immersed in the icy water, a cruel breeze lifting his hair, Harry started to shiver violently. He avoided looking at the stands; the laughter was becoming louder, and there were catcalls and jeering from the Slytherins.

He glanced sideways in the vain hope that some miraculous escape might present itself to him. Fleur was sliding under the water. Cedric, a head taller, was only a step or two behind her, then he too disappeared below the surface. Harry gawped. His teeth were trying to chatter but couldn't because his mouth gaped so wide. The other champions were swimming UNDERWATER!

Nothing, absolutely nothing, he knew, could ever compel him to voluntarily duck under that heavy mass of water and drown himself deliberately. He turned and began to wade back to the shore. He couldn't even swim one stroke on the surface – how was he supposed to swim below the...?

A choking sensation seized him; was Luna not in a boat but BENEATH the surface? Incredible though it seemed to him, he knew it must be true. They'd set a dragon on him in the first task so, to the organisers, swimming underwater must seem a walk in the park. But Luna... down there!

He turned around to face the lake again, daring now to look at its vastness as a whole. Harry had never really noticed how huge an expanse it was before; it was more like a small sea today, and below it... how deep was it anyway? There was nothing visible to inform or give any hint. Possibly it was shallow all the way across. Yes! of course! This was Hogwarts; they wouldn't have a dangerously deep lake where little first-years might drown.

Harry began to wade out once more; perhaps he could reach the centre this way and spot Luna just below the surface where he could lift her out. His body was now so numb with cold he had stopped shivering. _Hypothermia_ he thought, his mind starting to feel drowsy. Luna... Luna... Luna – he MUST focus! She would be in agony if completely immersed – yet he had promised her he would take no risks! What could he do to help her?

He knew he must do all that he could. Another step left him spluttering. The water was close to his mouth. One step forward and, snorting in water, he stepped back again, lifting his face clear. Panic fought with him – that state beyond fear where he knew self-control would be lost, and so would Luna! _THINK! THINK!_

Could he learn to doggy-paddle? Luna's cards could have taught him in five minutes flat, he had no doubt. He struggled to remember anything he had heard about keeping afloat... eyes glazing over...

_Stay sharp!_ Overwhelmed by anxiety, he began an unsteady, rhythmic circling of his arms as he'd seen swimmers do when floating. And his legs... against every instinct that screamed at him, he forced himself to lift his feet off the silt and pedal them around. Immediately, he swallowed water and floundered, thrashing about with his arms in crushing, choking, mindless horror until, mercifully, his feet touched the mud again. Behind him was a strange mixture of shouts of alarm and laughter as he coughed up water.

Harry was now almost weeping with fear and frustration – but he fought it off. He HAD to help Luna but how? How could they possibly expect him to do the impossible? _Those stupid, stupid–!_

Anger then took over – keeping despair at bay. Repeatedly, he slapped at the surface with his hands, and yelling incoherently, "Are you all totally insane sending me out to die like this!" But his voice was carried away over the lake by the vicious wind and smothered by the calls and cries of the spectators.

When finally, after what seemed a lifetime of trying to get started, he saw one of the other champions already returning from below, he began to step resignedly backwards. He could no longer pretend he was anything but useless and he had failed. Dumbledore must save his Luna, not himself.

He knew the return to the stands without even properly wetting the top of his hair would be his final humiliation so he was appalled at the prospect of turning to face the spectators' jibes. Their insults and sneering voices could be clearly heard not too far behind him. But, strange... one voice seemed even closer... Was it the returning champion ahead of him in the water? Fleur? The dark figure below the surface was approaching more closely – a distinct figure yet obscured by the waves. Was it a mermaid? No, this shadow was walking – walking towards him on the lake bed. Was the Beauxbatons girl hurt? Unable to swim any further? Was she in trouble? Summoning all his courage, he took a huge breath and dipped his head fully beneath the surface.

"Hello, Harry." The voice was strangely dull but very audible so there was no doubt it was Luna's. "I heard you splashing about and knew you must be trying to guide me here!" The odd light danced and played over her smiling face surrounded by a spreading halo of blonde hair.

Luna held out her arms, her school robes floating weightlessly around her like angel's wings. He stood up straight again, gasping in shock, to take a huge breath from above, then ducked down completely and, with all of his remaining strength, he scooped up Luna and turned back to land. As he did so, the strange heat from her body reinforced his vigour and his will for this one last effort.

When Harry Potter emerged like a god triumphant from the lake, with Luna Lovegood in his arms, a shocked silence fell upon the crowd. Even the wind and the weather seemed to pause in obeisance at the magnificent accomplishment. Astonishingly, less than fifteen minutes of the allotted hour had elapsed since the start of the contest...

Bagman was the first to recover. "HE'S DONE IT! THE BOY'S ACTUALLY DONE IT!"

An enormous thunderous, rumbling cheer went up from those gathered there; feet began stomping and shaking the stand; hands clapped loudly together – it was a spontaneous applause that overrode all the crowd's previously mixed feelings of disgust and disappointment. There is, perhaps, in human nature, despite its common injustice and bigotry, a natural appreciation of that which is truly great, even if it is a supposed enemy's greatness.

But Harry was now shaking painfully on the ground. Deep shivers convulsed him in fearful torment as circulation returned to his limbs. Events began happening around him in a slowly moving tableau. Luna was holding his bare feet to her tummy. He could hear Madam Pomfrey fussing over him, her silhouette obscuring the overcast sky. Moody was asking why in Merlin's name he hadn't used a warming charm. And Ron... Ron was helping with the blankets. He had a horrified look on his face.

"Blimey, mate, are you mental? You could have been drowned!"

.

~~~ Moody's Amazement ~~~

"A good piece of magic there, Potter," grimaced Moody, which was the nearest he ever got to a smile. "It's the hot topic in the staff room at the moment. How? You were struggling in the icy water. It was obvious that you don't know how to swim! What were you thinking, laddie! You could have died!"

The man motioned to Harry to take the seat before his desk, but he, himself, seemed too agitated to sit as he continued his reflections.

"Dumbledore was almost ready to have someone drag you out of there when you suddenly dipped beneath the waves and drew your girlfriend directly to you from deep within the lake! How? ... Everyone is asking – including myself. A powerful wizard might use the summoning charm to pull a mere cart, a really great wizard might even haul the donkey a short way, but there is no record of anyone summoning a living person, let alone through a quarter mile of water! And Lovegood's leg had been tied to a rock!"

Never had Harry seen Moody so excited, so perturbed, so baffled. He watched him take a swig from his hip flash before the man went on with his outpouring...

"Dumbledore has questioned the merfolk. They say Lovegood was there sure enough, as limp as a lump of flobberworm gravy, and well secured to her anchor. It was some time after the task started that one of them noticed she was absent – her rope not even cut, yet the knots gone! They concluded the hitches had loosened and her helpless body had drifted to the surface, but we know that's impossible – she would have drifted with the wind to the other side, and anyway, those knots had been checked several times – twice by myself! They were secure!"

Moody leaned over Harry and peered closely into his face with his swivelling magical eye. "What are you hiding, Potter? It wasn't a summoning charm at all, was it, eh? Couldn't be a Portkey, not on Hogwarts ground, not without Dumbledore's say so. Apparition is out of the question for the same reason...

The man began to pace, his wooden leg clumping loudly on the stone floor.

"Flitwick even started a lottery pool, dammit! He thought you used misdirection but I put my money on a new form of pulling spell! But I tell you, Potter, it's got me and everyone else stumped, and I thought I'd seen it all."

"I'd rather keep it to myself, sir."

For a moment, Moody's good eye glowered angrily at Harry while his magical eye flicked briefly towards his shelf of potions and back. Moody seemed to be struggling inwardly – then he mastered himself once more.

"Quite right, laddie. Play your cards close to your chest. It's good work is all I can say. Tell no one, you hear? You-know-who would sacrifice many a Death Eater for that knowledge!"

.

~~~ Occam's Razor ~~~

Harry was glad to get out of there, anxious himself to find out how the mighty deed had been done. But he had to wait outside the Ravenclaw common room for quite a while before anyone let him in.

"Can you repeat the question, please?"

"Again?" said the bronze eagle wearily. "Oh, very well...

_A six-foot butcher is tough and he's strong,  
His girth is as broad as he is long.  
With shoes size twelve, he leaps and he delves,  
But what does he weigh, we ask ourselves?_

"Eighteen stone – no, nineteen!" cried Harry, wishing he'd written down all his previously forgotten guesses. "Give me a clue – do you have to multiply six by six then by the shoe size then divide by... what?"

The eagle did not respond but Harry could have sworn he heard its brass eyes rolling around. He blind-guessed several more values then stopped when he sensed footsteps coming up the tower stair.

"Ah! Padma! This riddle's impossible to work out! I need to see Luna! Can you help me?"

Padma frowned and rapped the knocker.

_A six-foot butcher is tough and he's–_

"Meat – a butcher weighs meat," growled Padma at the eagle, "Merlin, I got that in first year! Couldn't you come up with something more challenging now and again?"

The door opened as the eagle said dejectedly, "I wished only to ease the poor boy's passage to–"

"Yeah, yeah, true love, got it. Come on, Harry. ... LUNA! LOVER BOY RESCUE HERO IS HERE!" She had put on an outward show of scorn but Harry could clearly hear the humour, and even envy, in her tone.

Luna had been waiting, and she bounded up to Harry without delay, then dragged him to sit with her on a couch in a window bay.

"How?" whispered Harry. "Everybody's patting me on the back as if I did something wonderful and I can't tell them anything."

Luna smiled. "They should remember the rule of the great 14th-century wizard, William of Ockham. People look for complicated solutions when often the solution is quite simple – rather like the bronze eagle's questions. I begged it to give you the easiest one it knew, and here you are, so that proves it!"

"Erm..."

"That eagle likes me. I talk to it sometimes when I'm lonely."

Harry let out a long sigh. "Luna, it's outrageous that you should ever be lonely. You've got a brilliant mind. How are they treating you?"

"They're a little better now," she smiled. "The girls ask me if you're good at kissing and whether we made love on the stroke of midnight at New Year, and whether your – you know – is–"

"Luna!" cut in Harry, turning rather hot. "Enough about me! How'd you wake yourself up, hold your breath, ride a dolphin or whatever across the lake, and – no, wait, did you find a way to put a big bubble of air around a Floo connection then you–"

Luna smiled. "Wiggenweld pastilles. They kept me awake all the time, so at the first chance when I wasn't being observed, I untied myself and walked towards where I'd seen the stands. It didn't take long."

"You _walked_ on the lake bed all the– what did you say? Those pastilles are Wiggenweld potion?"

"A flavoured variant of it, yes. Some say Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem was impregnated with concentrated Wiggenweld. A tiny drop sharpens your wits if you're feeling dreamy but a thimbleful will even awaken you from the Draught of Living Death or the Sleeping Beauty curse."

"I know! I was given it in Potions class! It tastes foul."

"A little more sweetener helps a bit, but yes, even the dry lozenges do begin to smell if you don't pop them quickly into your mouth. After that, they change into something like a delicious coffee liqueur." Luna's eyes glazed over and she started to look really dreamy so Harry gave her a nudge. But he kissed her first.

.

~~~ Reconciliation ~~~

Lessons having been cancelled for the rest of the day, and the prevailing school attitude of contempt having been greatly eased by the famous romantic rescue and success of a Hogwarts champion, Harry suggested that Luna come back with him to meet his friends. His girlfriend did not need any further persuasion.

The Gryffindor common room was crowded and they found Hermione cradling her cat, Crookshanks, in her arms, with the others standing not far from the entrance. Perhaps they had been waiting for them.

Luna ran smiling to Ginny, and, as she wafted past, Hermione drew in a deep breath, trying not to be too obvious.

"She hasn't worn exultantis for ages!" Harry hissed irritably in her ear. "Luna never was trying to bewitch me!" He forced a smile across to Ginny, Neville, and Luna who were chatting together animatedly, but Crookshanks wasn't fooled. He swiped a paw at Harry, narrowly missing his cheek. Harry glared at the half-kneazle.

Hermione blinked at Harry then whispered back, "Well, of course not, I was just... admiring her... essence of lily petals!" She had finished defiantly, with an upturned smirk on her lips.

Lurking self-consciously on the edge of their conversations was Ron, biting his lip and sipping pumpkin juice – sometimes at the same time. He dabbed quickly at his chin with the back of his hand.

"Still think I volunteered for target practice?" said Harry, with just a trace of sarcasm, expecting a biting rejoinder.

But Ron had turned rather pale at being acknowledged. "Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that Goblet... I, I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

It was as though the last few weeks had never happened – as though Harry was meeting Ron for the first time, right after he'd been made champion.

"Caught on, have you?" said Harry, coldly. "Took you long enough."

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly. Harry knew Ron was about to apologise and, suddenly, he found he didn't need to hear it.

"It's okay," he said, before Ron could get the words out. "Forget it."

Ron opened his mouth again but then shut it and grinned nervously at him instead ... and Harry grinned back.

Hermione burst into tears, dropping Crookshanks who leapt away and hid under a table.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry told her, bewildered.

"You two are so stupid!" she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. Then, before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug, and dashed upstairs, now positively howling.

"Barking mad, that one," said Ron, shaking his head.

"So..." Ron continued after Hermione's wails had faded away into the distance, "You two, eh?" His eyes gestured towards Luna who was now whispering in Ginny's ear.

Harry nodded.

"You're officially... together?"

"Yep." Harry pulled a self-satisfied smile.

Ron wasn't sure what to say next, but Harry knew what he was thinking so got in first. "She's great, Ron, really great. You just need to get to know her."

Ron nodded, uncertainly at first, then more vigorously as he raised his goblet vaguely in a toast. "Yeah, Ginny's always liked her. Good luck to you both then, mate."

Was there a tinge of sadness there? Did Ron suppose Harry would not have time for him now that he had a girlfriend? Harry felt his pain; he'd suffered it himself during their separation.

"Come on, I want to show you something, get your opinion about it," said Harry, more to make Ron feel needed than anything. "Just have to check my map first though..."

They both scampered upstairs and Harry drew out his cloak and the Marauder's map, which he quickly examined.

"What we looking for?" said Ron.

"Moody – he's got this weird Floo in his office. I wondered if you might know what it is."

"Well, he's not in there now but we'd best be quick," said Ron.

"That's odd, what's Barty Crouch doing in the Headmaster's office?" mused Harry.

"Come on, Mad-eye's the last person I want to get caught by," said Ron, heading for the door.

"R...Right..." Harry folded up the map and raced after Ron.

"Back in ten minutes or so," mouthed Harry to Luna as he passed, flashing ten fingers in the air.

.

~~~ Mugged ~~~

"You think he's the one trying to kill you?" panted Ron, as they ran along the passageways.

"Dunno. Him and Karkaroff are the only new wizards here powerful enough to get me in the Tournament, aren't they? Unless you count Madame Maxime, I suppose..."

"But Dumbledore's known Moody for ages," said Ron. "He was a really famous Auror – caught no end of Death Eaters in his day. It can't be him, it just can't."

"Well, see what you think, then."

They found Moody's office unlocked and crept inside. There was no clue where Moody might be, but a mug of steaming coffee standing on the mantelpiece indicated he probably wouldn't be gone long.

"That's a Floo?" said Ron, as his eyes fell on the fireplace. "Never seen a red one like that – nobody has."

"Never? Have you ever heard of any other colours?"

Ron shook his head. "No, just green. Where'd you think it goes?"

Harry reached forward one hand, but changed his mind as he felt the searing heat on his fingers. "Dunno. He said it's once-only." A wicked grin crossed his face. "Perhaps we could test Crookshanks in it..."

"Aah, don't be like that; Hermione loves her cat," said Ron.

Harry turned away from the flames in surprise. "Since when did you...?" He paused as an astonishing thought entered his head. "You're not...?"

"What?"

"You're not going soft on Hermione, are you, Ron?"

Ron's ears, which were already lit by the crimson Floo, turned an even darker shade. "Of course not!" he spluttered. "I was only... d'you hear that?"

Harry grinned at Ron's effort to distract him.

"No, seriously!" said Ron. "I thought I heard Moody calling."

"Funny..." said Harry, still smirking as he lounged casually against the mantelshelf to prove he wasn't fooled. "I don't hear anything."

"You've still got lake water in your ears, Harry! I'm not joking! Listen!" Ron strode over to a wall before which stood a huge chest, but there was no one behind it when he leaned over to look.

Harry, who had begun to wonder if his ears really were blocked, poked a finger into one and begin wiggling it around. As his elbow came up he knocked the coffee mug off the mantel.

CRASH!

"Run, Harry!" Ron was already dashing to the door.

Harry had the presence of mind to cast a repair spell on the mug and thrust it back on the mantelpiece, but he had no idea how to restore the hot drink.

As Ron reached for the door, it sprang open and a girl's head poked in. She looked swiftly around, glared at them both, pointed meaningfully _behind_ the big chest, then quickly withdrew again, closing the door quietly behind her.

Footsteps were sounding outside, approaching in a hurry.

"Filch!" Harry stuffed a fist at his mouth to stifle his own cry.

"Moody!" hissed Ron. "Oh, Harry, what'll we do?"

Harry dragged Ron behind the huge chest and pulled his invisibility cloak over them.

The door swung open. "Who's–?"

The speaker fell silent. Harry risked a peek but he already knew whose voice it was.

"Sn-Snape...!" breathed Ron in Harry's ear.

Harry watched as the Potions master walked over to the Floo. He appeared to find it as curious as had Harry and Ron but something distracted him. Perhaps he had seen the wet stain on the hearthrug or maybe spotted the last wisp of steam from the coffee mug, for he picked it up and felt its warmth. In a flash, his beady eyes were sweeping the room again.

"Professor! Help! Help!" A girl's voice was calling distantly from outside.

Snape shoved the mug down onto Moody's desk and rushed outside. Harry could clearly hear his footsteps pounding down the far stairwell.

"Come on, Ron!"

Harry sprinted for the door with Ron not far behind. Ron heard him whisper, "Thank, Tonks!" to someone he couldn't see, then they were round the opposite corner and heading back to Gryffindor Tower.

There they found Hermione quite recovered and chatting to Luna with only a slight reserve, much to Harry's delight.

"You see?" Harry murmured to Ron as they approached their friends, "if Hermione can warm to her, then you can – you just have to get to know her properly."

"Where have you been?" said Hermione, turning to the pair.

"Doing a bit of detective work," said Ron. In hushed voices they described what had happened, Harry only omitting Tonks's part.

"Harry, you need to tell Professor Dumbledore about that red Floo," said Hermione, worriedly.

"Well, Snape saw it. He didn't look that bothered."

"He was distracted by the mug and – oh, Harry! The carpet was wet! Didn't you remember to use a cleansing spell?"

Harry closed his eyes in anguish. How had he forgotten about that? "There wasn't time, Hermione. We were lucky to get out in one piece."

Ron said, "Those flames were really hot – maybe it'll dry up before Moody notices."

"Let's hope so... yeah, it'll be alright." But inside, Harry knew that Moody was unlikely to miss even a dry stain that hadn't been there before.

.

—oOo—

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* * *

**Author's Notes**

_I used old-fashioned weight units for Harry's response to the eagle's riddle. A stone is 14 pounds in American or just over 6 kilos in metric. I couldn't remember what was used in the books but I think JKR used all the old units to capture the olde-worlde atmosphere of magical Britain._ ;)

_More drama and angst in the final chapter which is now being polished up to publish in a few days. Brace yourself, there's a storm of emotion coming, Harry; best ye be ready for it._ ;)

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults — I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**\- Hippothestrowl**

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	6. Confinement and Closure

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_So far... After Luna taught him to dance, Harry and Luna kiss under the mistletoe at the Yule Ball and become inseparable. In the 2nd Task, Luna frees herself and Harry merely carries her out of the lake. The apparent heroic rescue and success of a Hogwarts champion greatly eases the school's attitude to the pair and even Ron is now talking to Harry. But the final task remain. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 6**

**Confinement and Closure**

* * *

.

~~~ Uncovering the Final Task ~~~

The six friends stayed at Hogwarts through the Easter holidays, and when the summer term began, bringing with it warmer weather, they were often together, sprawled out under a beech tree near the lake where Harry had almost drowned. Luna was lying with her head in Harry's lap, looking up at his face, framed by the leafery of the beech canopy above him. Neville was clutching a packet of fat butter biscuits into which Ginny dipped now and again.

"What you reckon the next task will be, Harry?" asked Ginny.

But Harry had spotted Tonks sitting cross-legged at the edge of his group of friends, and almost one of them. Although her eyes were constantly scanning the grounds for any sign of trouble, she smiled when Luna reached up and feathered Harry's face with her fingertips. The moment Tonks saw she had Harry's attention she pout-kissed the back of her hand and made goo-goo eyes at him, mouthing, _Give her one, Harry!_ Harry's face felt very hot all of a sudden.

He had already been uncomfortable because her Not-Notice charm made him almost forget about her most of the time, and that she had to spend so much time all alone. Nobody else seemed to see her at all, even Luna, except those periods when Harry was in an innocent huddle with the Auror in the corridors of Hogwarts. But Luna understood now better than Harry, that Tonks' cheeky and cheerful disposition was an attempt to help Harry lighten up, to give him a few minutes distraction from worrying about the danger he was in.

_Dear Luna..._ mused Harry, stroking her hair.

"Harry?" urged Ginny, again. "The next task?"

"Huh? Aah... yeah, well, Malfoy got it wrong twice, but what if he really heard something, and what if it was for the _third_ task not the first or second?"

"That's very unlikely," said Hermione swiftly before he had even finished.

"Harry, this is Malfoy we're talking about!" said Ron. "He's a foul git and you can't rely on anything he says."

"Perhaps this time there may be some accidental truth in what he said though," piped up Luna.

"What do you mean?" said Ginny.

"Clearly, the first task involved death by fire while the second was by water..."

"The four classic elements!" cried Hermione. "That's what you mean, isn't it?"

"The what?" said Ron.

"The four elements known to antiquity. They are fire, water, earth, and air, so..."

"So the final task might involve flying or, more likely, being enclosed... or trapped in – something connected with the ground like the puzzle traps I mentioned." He frowned. "Hermione, is there a digging spell I could learn? It wouldn't hurt to know one, just in case."

Ginny pulled up a tuft of grass and blew it away. "You could use the vanishing charm, you know, to vanish earth and rocks and things."

"Or a blasting spell like _Bombarda,"_ said Hermione.

"A pet Niffler might be useful if it's a treasure hunt through underground caverns," Luna said dreamily.

"Without a clue, it's all guesswork though," put in Neville.

The discussion continued along these lines, not only that afternoon, but most of the following days. The only thing they all agreed on was that Harry should be prepared for anything, but do nothing when he was finally facing danger. They hoped the day would never come, and yet they were impatient to get it out of the way too.

They did not have too long to wait. In the last week of May, Professor McGonagall held Harry back in Transfiguration.

"You are to go down to the Quidditch pitch tonight at nine o"clock, Potter," she told him. "Mr Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

Ron and Hermione waited anxiously in Gryffindor Tower with Neville and Ginny. It was late in the day for Luna because of the curfew, but Harry had lent her his invisibility cloak, and she huddled under it in a corner chair in the common room, out of sight of any Gryffindor prefect's prying eyes. Ginny and Neville sat on the arms of the chair, guarding it.

The clock on the wall was nearing ten before Harry returned.

"Enchanted obstacle maze on the Quidditch pitch!" he exclaimed the moment he returned. "Shouldn't be too bad, should it? I can get lost in an L-shaped room so I'll have no trouble wasting away an hour in a maze."

"What kind of obstacles?" asked Ginny.

"They didn't say. Who cares? I don't intend to get past any of them."

Ron shuddered. "What if they have a nest of... you know... Acromantulas, Harry?"

Ginny scoffed. "Harry's faced worse than that, haven't you, Harry? A giant three-headed dog, a Basilisk, hoards of Dementors..."

"I'll just cast up red sparks with my wand the moment I see them. They have to pull you out, you see, if you get in trouble."

Luna peeped out from Harry's cloak, looking sombre.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry. "I thought you'd be pleased I'm not going to take any risks?"

"But what about afterwards, Harry? When you fail but don't get killed? What will the assassin do then?"

Harry frowned. "I'll ask Toh–" He glanced briefly at the others. "I mean, my bodyguard, to stay close. Sh... he always watches out for me."

"Not that good, I reckon," said Neville. "Never shows his nose anywhere near you. He can't protect you while he's sitting with his feet up in the staff room, drinking cocoa all day long."

Harry almost smiled as Tonks, who was standing unnoticed only a few feet behind Neville, stiffened in annoyance. Her scowl alone would have sent Neville running if he could have seen her.

But Harry's relief and delight at discovering the nature of the third task had evaporated like dew on hearing Luna's concern. There would be another full week after the task until the end of the school year when he could return to the relative safety of Privet Drive. He would have to keep his head down until then. Take no chances. Stay close with trusted friends... especially Luna.

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~~~ The Living Maze ~~~

At the evening feast preceding the final task, Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table. Bagman appeared quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking.

There were more courses than usual, but Harry, who was starting to feel uneasy now the reality of the final task was approaching, didn't eat much at all. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch pitch for the third and last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the stadium now."

Harry got up, his feet suddenly like lead Bludgers. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him. Everyone wished him good luck. Luna ran tearfully over from her table and gave him a big kiss – resulting in more cheers and wolf-whistles all around, then he headed off out of the Great Hall, with Cedric, Fleur and Krum.

"Feeling alright, Harry?" Bagman asked, as they went down the stone steps into the grounds. "Confident?"

"I'm okay," said Harry. It was sort of true; he planned on waiting a decent amount of time near the entrance, then finding an easy excuse to quit, but even so, he was troubled. As they walked, he kept running over in his head all the things that might go wrong, which didn't help his confidence at all. There always seemed to be more things that could endanger him than not.

They walked onto the Quidditch pitch which was now completely unrecognisable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them; the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy.

Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. Directly overhead, the sky was now a deep, clear ultramarine, and the first stars had appeared. The only natural illumination was a failing pale glow from the west, so the organisers were busily conjuring lanterns with their wands before the twilight ended. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions.

"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," said Professor McGonagall to the competitors. "May we remind you once again, if you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"

The champions nodded.

Bagman now pointed his wand at his throat, muttered "Sonorus", and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, on eighty-five points each – Mr Cedric Diggory and Mr Viktor Krum. In second place, on sixty points – Miss Fleur Delacour, and, in fourth place, Harry Potter! There will be a time penalty in proportion to those previous scores but it will then be the first to reach the Tri-wizard Cup who will be our grand winner!

Harry was glad that Bagman had discreetly avoided mentioning his own low score. Entering last into the maze though, meant nobody would be coming up behind him to discover he wasn't even trying to win.

"So ... on my whistle, Cedric and Viktor!" said Bagman. "Three – two – one –"

He gave a short blast on his whistle, then Viktor and Cedric hurried forwards into the maze.

Waiting made Harry's nerves twang even more. He watched Fleur enter then braced himself...

"Three – two – one –"

With a final wave at Luna, he turned and stepped inside the opening to the maze. The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and thick, or because they had been enchanted, the maze seemed to close in behind him and the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced. He was utterly alone.

Yet despite the desolation, Harry couldn't help but feel there was something... something going on in here. There was no movement visible, but he imagined that he heard rustling sounds.

Preparing himself for a long wait, he glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes ought to do it and give a half-decent impression that he had tried. He peered through the darkening murk at the first turning fifty paces to his left. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to take a look...

He crept forward, conscious all the time of Luna's cautions. He was almost disappointed when the next passage seemed as bland as the one he was in. Might as well make it look as if he had tried. He walked carefully onwards, wand in hand, then looked at his watch. Less than three minutes had elapsed since the start! Standing around was... boring.

Two more turns and he came to a dead end. _Seems a good place to wait,_ he mused, settling himself down on the turf underfoot. He could pretend he had gone much further then feign surprise he had circled back without realising. With a bit of luck he would be out of here before the last of the daylight failed. Yet even though he had resolved to remain safely hidden from any unpleasantness, the darkness was growing claustrophobic, and the rustling... yes! there really was something...

His straining eyes detected small, shadowy movements in the gloom! Mice? Insects? Dark snakes? Before he could fully scramble to his feet, a finger-like touch brushed his ankle. He leapt up and back. "Lumos!"

The illumination revealed that the hedge itself was animate and growing around him! There were poisonous-looking thorns underfoot, and vines that crept. Harry shuddered. Tendrils were visibly expanding and stretching. Heavy, bulging stems squirmed and matted together. Without warning, a couple of the thicker ones accelerated forward, groping at his leg, and, as he tried to run, tumbling him over in a bruising heap. One elbow was bumped right on the funny bone, causing him to yelp. He spun over, disoriented, glasses askew. As his hand struck the ground to break his turn, the wand was pushed right through his grip into a tenuous, two-fingertip hold – but not for long. It was quickly left behind as he was dragged an arm's length along the turf – and the magical radiance died. Blinking and squinting to readjust to what now seemed total darkness, he found himself struggling to move freely amidst the wiry, probing creepers. Harry Potter was in a fix alright.

He stretched forth his arm towards where he had seen his wandlight fail, but his wrist was instantly gripped and his hand pierced by a vicious thorn. Another tendril was creeping around his throat. Even more alarming, Harry could hear another sound rattling and slithering through the growth towards him...

Cold and hard and seemingly with purpose, it knocked into his fingers. He cringed. It was his wand. How? He had no time to wonder who else might be here. In a trice he had another light and began blasting at the hedge, partly driving back the woody arms that held him prisoner. _I can do this! I can beat it!_

Yet Luna's words now came to him. In his mind he could see her card quite vividly, _Accept Without Risk._

He cast up red sparks.

McGonagall was there first, unbinding him with a wave of her wand. "Are you injured, Potter?"

"I'm okay – just scratches and cuts." He held up his hand which was still seeping blood.

The teacher frowned at the nasty wound where the thorn had pierced. "Best get you to sick bay, all the same."

.

~~~ The Assassin's Identity ~~~

When they emerged, Luna was near the entrance, jumping up and down with anxiety, clearly wishing to help.

"Miss Lovegood, would you take Mr Potter to the hospital wing at once, please?" said McGonagall.

It was hard to judge the crowd's reaction to his early failure. Their subdued manner might be hiding their disgust. Harry was glad to get away.

"Harry, Harry, let me look at you..." cried Luna, as she walked swiftly along with him.

Harry gestured her off with a rueful grimace and a raised palm, slippy with blood. "It's nothing!"

"Listen, Harry, we have to act quickly or you'll be in more danger. I think I know now who the Death Eater is!"

Harry stopped still in astonishment. "How? It's Snape isn't it?"

She shook her head and gently took his good hand, leading the way. "I overheard him. Oh, Harry, I had to do something..."

Harry frowned. They were headed towards Moody's office. "Luna, what have you done?"

Alarm bells were ringing in Harry's head. He looked frantically around for Tonks but there was no sign of her. He stared down every side corridor they passed but it was clear that the Auror had lost sight of him.

"In here..."

Harry stood staring at the body on the floor before him in astonishment. "It's Professor Moody! You've..." – he dare not even think Luna had killed him – "you've stunned a Hogwarts teacher?"

"It's not him! He's taken Polyjuice. He'll be alright – it's only the sleeping curse..." She was at a shelf of potions, and extracted two very carefully. "Harry, we need proof or I'm in serious trouble. This one's Wiggenweld." She handed it to him. "We have to question him. Wake him up and I'll use Veritaserum on him. She placed the tiny vial carefully on the desk.

Harry crouched down while Luna closed the door. He unstoppered the bottle and leaned forward. For a few moments he paused, sniffing. Something wasn't right. "Luna, are your sure this is... what are you doing?"

Luna was chanting softly beside the lock. "We mustn't be disturbed, Harry! Oh, please hurry."

Harry turned back to Moody's lips and prised them apart with his good hand. He moved the bottle closer; it was sticky with his own blood.

An astonishing fear occurred to him. He looked up. Luna was now at the fireplace examining the crimson flames. Her face was a deep ruddy glow – almost demonic. Was that really her? He glanced down again at Moody. Then who was this? He knew the answer instantly. The bottle was poison and Harry Potter's blood was upon it. The sleeping person before him could be none other than the real Luna. He laid aside the bottle and leaned forward, bringing his own lips close to Moody's–

"But," came a soft, quiet voice from behind him, "you've already kissed me, Harry."

He jerked around. The girl had slipped silently back to him. In one hand her wand was thrust forward and in the other was Moody's empty coffee mug. She smiled, though there was something very different from the way she normally did so; her expression was cold and remote. "Haven't you worked it out yet?" she purred.

"Luna? You? It can't be!"

He was fumbling out his own wand but the stinging wound in his hand made him botch his grip and Luna's aim was already at his neck. Viciously, she struck down hard on the knuckles of his injured hand with the pottery mug, breaking a finger and causing him to cry out in pain. His wand clattered noisily across the stone floor out of his sight.

Even as his shout still echoed between the stone walls, there was a heavy crash at the door; raised voices could be heard beyond it as well as the creak and groan of forcing spells that were attempting to break the wards.

Luna smiled darkly. "Dumbledore. He'll not break down that door before the clock strikes."

She took one last look around the room.

"Come then, Harry, I have a friend who is anxious to meet you." She dragged him with surprising strength towards the fireplace, her wand digging painfully into his throat. "We'll go together. In the moment the hot red flickers to cold green and back – not one second before or after, else we both suffer a most awful death."

Harry scanned wildly about as they approached the dancing flames, hoping desperately for a miracle.

"There's no use looking, Harry," sneered Luna. "It's impossible for anyone to enter this room. No knight in shining armour is going to rescue you. No cavalry can come over the hill. We are sealed in, and those flames are exit-only. Even the Dark Lord himself could not penetrate this chamber."

Her arm was now tightly around his neck and long, straggly-blonde hair was pressed against the side of his face. Her perfume began to reek and he cringed against her with revulsion.

"What's wrong, Harry? Don't you love me anymore?"

Wild, frenzied ideas raced through Harry's mind. Had he guessed wrongly? He could hardly accept this was his Luna; or that she had played him along all this time. And yet, might Voldemort have tampered with her memories and beliefs? If he went with her, might he somehow find a way to help her? He needed longer to think, to clear his head. He had to play for time.

"What about...?" he gestured towards the sleeping body.

"Moody? Yes, I suppose he would be of interest to the Dark Lord, wouldn't he? Lots of secrets there to extract..."

Luna paused briefly, unwilling to surrender the death grip she had around Harry's throat. "Put your broken hand under mine, Harry."

"What!"

"Clasp my wand from the other side beneath my hand, feel the magic. No tricks mind you. I can just as easily stun you, but the Dark Lord wants you conscious, wants you to know what is going to happen..."

"But..." His finger was already swelling badly, and the injured palm looked very discoloured. "I can't grip anything with this...!"

"Do it!"

Tentatively, Harry upturned his hand below Luna's with the wand clasped between them. It was the same hand he had held while dancing, and so often down by the lake, but instead of soft, gentle fingers, he now only felt heartless claws digging into his injury, twisting the bone. He cried out again, "Aaah! Stop!" but Luna had locked his finger with hers and he could not pull away.

"Pull him to me. Pull Moody to the fire like you pulled me through the water," said Luna. "I want to learn your clever little spell. I need to feel it. My master will be well pleased."

Harry knew then which was the real Luna, yet he had to get _this_ Luna to leave the sleeping Luna behind; he must get this person to forget the sleeper...

"Never!" cried Harry. "Voldemort is weak and stupid! He'll never get me to–!" He screamed as she angrily thrust sideways against his broken knuckle.

"You dare speak his name! Then you will answer to him directly." She pushed him one step closer to the flames. "Oh, yes, my dear Harry, perhaps the Dark Lord will give me leave to make you beg. It might please him to see you crushed by your 'true love'."

Luna cackled madly but Harry held his tongue, thankful that the sleeper would not be taken, would not have to chance this hellish portal. Ron had been right; the heat from the red flames was especially intense close up. Harry's robes were beginning to smoulder.

"When I push, we step through instantly or we die horribly," hissed Luna in his ear.

The crimson fire flickered green briefly, once more, twice... Luna waited, timing the phases. "Only go when it's cold. Ready? One... two..."

"Relashio! Expelli–"

Luna's expression was one of utter astonishment yet her reflexes were surprising. Moody's first curse staggered her a step away from Harry, breaking her hold on him while she focused on her assailant. Yet she had clung tenaciously to her wand and spun around with a cutting curse before Moody could complete his second spell.

As Moody fell, bleeding heavily, Harry dived his shoulder numbly at Luna's hip. Already off-balance, she stumbled sideways, throwing up her arms to prevent herself falling into the roaring fireplace. But one leg shot out instinctively to brace herself...

She shrieked and fell backwards, losing not only her wand behind her but also her foot and most of the ankle which were Floo-severed away and the remnant charred and cauterised by the intense flames.

Immediately, the crimson glow lapsed back into a normal log fire, quietly crackling as if no deadly drama had just unfolded before it.

Leaving the dark witch to her fate, Harry dashed over and dropped to his knees beside the squirming, heavily-bleeding Moody. "LUNA! LUNA! Tell me what to do! Can't you speak! A CARD! Have you got a blank card? Can you write?"

"It's ... too late for him ... Harry!" The other Luna was struggling to master her pain yet had already managed to crawl to her wand and was pointing it at Harry once more.

"I won't leave Luna!" cried Harry.

"Moody's as ... good as dead. Nobody recovers from ... that curse," gasped the other Luna, groaning her distress between the words. "Help m-me, and ... you may ... yet live."

"Never!"

The creaking and straining of the door was increasing and there was a hammering on the heavy timbers too. Faintly, Harry could hear his name being called.

Harry shouted back, "HELP US! help us please, Headmaster! HURRY! Don't let her die!"

But the false Luna was chanting, sprawled before the fireplace. Six chants she uttered before Harry risked rushing her – only to find the wand in his face once more.

"I know you're not Luna," snarled Harry. He pointed at Moody, moaning on the floor. "Save her, and I'll help you escape. I'll do anything, anything you want. I'll do anything your master wants," said Harry, frantically.

The false Luna's face was contorted with pain, and she could barely speak. She shook her head. "I can't ... save her," she gasped. "No one ... can. She's dying and ... is beyond ... any help."

The fake Luna's eyes, the same eyes that he had grown to love so much, were now full of malice as she studied Harry's despair. "One more chant, and then we leave as before."

"_Network..._" The gasp had been feeble but somehow amplified. Harry twisted his head around. The Moody-Luna had her face pressed against the door.

"CRUCIO!" screamed the dark Luna and the body near the door jerked spasmodically, blood spouting now from its mouth, then it fell back.

"You'll drag me through, Potter, or you'll get the same as your stupid girlfriend!"

There was a desperate panic now in the fake-Luna's voice as she uttered the seventh chant. Harry was crouching before the fire, with this strange, crippled other-Luna half-sprawled across him, hanging on tenaciously with one arm, the other holding the deadly wand at Harry's neck. Sweat was pouring down her face; her eyes began to glaze over as she fought to stay conscious.

Slowly, the log fire began to flicker more redly. Harry imagined he saw the lines of terrible, grim faces within it. Any moment now, Harry knew it would turn crimson...

"Stand up, ready to drag me through!" snarled this other-Luna, drawing on her last reserves.

As Harry braced himself to rise, the flames began to partly change in colour; it was his last chance...

With a desperate turn of his lifting foot, he kicked down hard on the scorched stump of the false Luna, falling over her and away from the flames in the hope she might not be able to point her wand quickly enough. But though she was now shrieking continuously in pain, the fake Luna succeeded in bringing her wand to bear and nothing could stop the brilliant flash of green right in his face.

Dazzled, Harry felt himself sliding away into an emerald void. As he did, he thought he saw an awful fury charging out from the flames – but they were not red flames, nor were they yellow or orange, they were Floo-green. It was Dumbledore coming through, followed by Snape and McGonagall. The drama was over. The fake Luna's wand flew away in a rage of splinters. Someone was pulling Harry to one side, chanting a spell over his eyes. As his vision cleared, he had a fleeting glimpse of that same person running across to the dying Moody-Luna.

In a daze, Harry weakly sat before the Floo staring at Madam Pomfrey shaking her head over the body near the door. Somehow he dragged himself to a half-stand and stumbled over.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," said the Matron. "It's over..."

"No... no, she's hanging on..." cried Harry. "She must be..."

But Madam Pomfrey moved her hand forward to gently close the eyes of the body.

"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!" Harry fell to his knees, blubbering incoherently, forcing himself to look at the unbelievable.

As the magic died, the body reformed itself. Briefly, Harry saw a young girl smiling at him – but it was not Luna's smile. That last brief form passed too, and the young woman on the floor was Tonks, lost forever from this world, and beyond all mortal help.

Harry stared for many seconds in disbelief, torn apart by conflicting emotions, then dry sobs racked his body. He shook off an arm that was around his shoulder. "NNooo! Not Tonks... please not Tonks..."

"I'm sorry, Harry, we were too late," said Dumbledore over his shoulder.

"She g-gave a year of her l-life to watch over... me?" choked Harry. "And now she's given it all. What a stupid waste..."

"I don't think she saw it that way, Harry."

Harry stiffened, but could not yet struggle up to his feet. "But... it can't be..." His gaze had turned to the other–Luna, to whom Snape was administering a few drops of the Veritaserum.

"That's not her either, Harry," said Dumbledore, solemnly. "Professor Flitwick has assured me that Miss Lovegood is safe and well in the Ravenclaw common room where the eagle's conundrums have been made even more formidable for the time being. She informed her head of house that she was taken by Professor Moody to his office where he cursed her. Tonks awoke her with Luna's own pastilles, and ordered her to go to her tower and remain there until further notice."

Harry blinked, trying to clear his head. "You mean, Tonks replaced her as Professor Moody's body on the floor? Why?" He was aware that Pomfrey was fussing over his oddly-turned finger, anxious to get him to the hospital wing.

Dumbledore sighed. "We can only surmise that Miss Tonks saw there was no time to prevent you being ensnared so she prepared her own trap. She remained awake the whole time, awaiting a chance."

"Then who is that?" Harry gestured with his head towards the false Luna.

"Aah... that is the question, isn't it?" said Dumbledore.

Moody's office started to whirl hazily around as Harry stood up. Pomfrey was still dabbing tincture on his hand and muttering about it drawing out the poisonous sap of the thorn.

Snape looked up as they approached. "It's Crouch's son, Headmaster – no, he never died in Azkaban. The man's been here disguised as Moody all year. Full well he knew it was impossible for anyone but you to make a Portkey out from Hogwarts, so he corrupted the Tournament cup Portkey, redirecting it towards the Dark Lord instead of back to the stadium."

"To Voldemort? So he has, at least, some temporary form of body?" Dumbledore did not look too surprised.

"Only a weak, foetal corruption of snake and human that cannot survive long, and is little better than the serpents and rats he possessed before."

To Harry, the conversation seemed far off, clinically detached from the tragedy of real people like Tonks and... "What about Cedric! The others?"

"Calm yourself, Harry. Miss Lovegood returned to the Ravenclaw Tower via the owlery and sent me a most interesting magical card. The Tournament was cancelled, and everyone is safe. Very smart girl, that one, Harry."

"Tell me about it," Harry grimaced, performing what he thought Harry Potter ought to. But inside he was so emotionally weary that Madam Pomfrey insisted he return with her to the hospital wing for a dose of Skele-Gro and a good night's rest.

.

~~~ The Worst Of It ~~~

It was morning when Harry dreamed of being sandwiched within wondrous folds and layers of love. Two hands gently held his, and there were no demands upon him. He floated through this cotton wool valley in a timeless kind of way, slowly emerging from its glorious lazy depths into even brighter sunshine. The boy awoke.

His normal everyday mind became aware of where he was and he slowly eased open his eyelids. Luna was propped up by a huge downy pillow beside him. She appeared to have fallen asleep sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, had slightly slumped over into the copious swelling of the bolster, and was now nicely cushioned by it. Yet her little hands still cradled his almost-healed palm to her bosom.

While he was still blinking away the haze of sleep and his eyes were adjusting to the brightness, Luna appeared all white – Harry was reminded of one of those angel pictures he'd seen in books – quilted, ivory dressing gown, fluffy snow slippers, pale face, and fair, misty hair through which the day's illumination shone. He glanced up at the clock. Oh, well, breakfast can wait...

Her lips were slightly parted in sleep. Crossing them, a delicate wisp of hair trembled with her breath. He could see her pupils quietly moving below her eyelids as she dreamt. What did she see? Was she thinking of him?

Sounds were now coming from beyond the entrance to the hospital wing. Harry thought he heard Ron's voice, perhaps Hermione too. Luna stirred. Her eyelids slowly opened at the same moment the doors opened, and her eyes fell immediately upon Harry gazing back at her.

"Hi..."

"Hi..."

"_I think he's awake..._" Ginny's voice whispering far off.

Luna straightened up a little – but not much. Harry likewise.

"Oh, sorry, this is..." Hermione was closer now. "We can come back later if..."

"No, come in," said Harry.

"Brought you some breakfast," said Ron.

He must have opened a container, probably an elf-basket, for the aroma of bacon, and sausage, and fresh-baked bread wafted into Harry's nostrils, rousing his stomach from its night's fast.

"Got juice here or tea," said Neville, cheerfully.

"Yeah, pile it on," said Harry, hoisting himself up into a sitting position, as Ron hoisted a laden bed-tray into position over his lap.

Hermione quietly dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet on top of his bedclothes. Harry almost dropped the crusty cob he had seized. His jaw gaped open, but not to eat. The extra-bold headline read:

**HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED LIVES!  
FUDGE KICKED OUT! SCRIMGEOUR IN!**

Hermione summarised the story for him quickly:

"Madam Bones forced a very lengthy interrogation under Veritaserum of Crouch Junior before a night session of the full Wizengamot. He confirmed that You-know-who was physically alive – albeit trapped in a weak embryonic creature – and you, Harry, were to be kidnapped to use in a ritual."

"A ritual?"

"To fully re-embody Voldemort with the help of... Pettigrew."

Harry hissed air out between clenched teeth, and Hermione nodded as she continued, "Yes, Ron and I gave provisional testimony describing last year's events in the Shrieking Shack with Wormtail, Remus and your godfather, and the case of Sirius Black has had to be re-opened. It will be a formality. He has virtually been pardoned already."

With a grunt of relief, Harry said, "Finally!"

Ginny pipped in, "They found the real Moody in that big chest in his room and he's recovering in St. Mungo's."

"And Harry," added Ron, excitedly. "Tonks is to receive the Order of Merlin, first– Ow!"

Hermione had jabbed Ron in the ribs but Harry had already frozen in horror, his face suddenly pinched in. "You know about her then?"

"Yeah," said Neville, "the Auror who was guarding you, we heard."

Harry fell silent. There was murmuring in the group gathered around him.

"She was brilliant, Harry," said Hermione. "Luna told us that Tonks meant a lot to you. I wished I'd known her."

Harry nodded, his head low. Luna gently squeezed his hand.

"We're all with you, Harry," said Neville. "We'll do all we can to help you through the worst of this."

Harry shook his head, and snapped, "You don't KNOW what was the worst of it!" At the memory, yesterday's bitterness flared up from within him. "You want to know what was the worst of it? The _second_ worst was when I thought Luna lay dead in front of me! But the worst, the very worst, was when we discovered it was Tonks..."

There was a moment of shock as the recollection fully hit him. He jerked upright and the trayful of breakfast was flung sideway with a crash onto the floor.

"Harry..." began Hermione.

"NO! NO! NO!" A furious wave of his hand indicated he would not be stopped. "You know why that was the worst?" Harry's throat was painfully constricted and he was shouting in breathless gasps. "BECAUSE ... for ... a few ... seconds ... I was GLAD! I was GLAD it was Tonks and not ... Luna!"

Sobs of uncontrollable rage reduced his voice to that of a weeping infant, blubbering and almost incoherent. "_Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God ... I'm sorry, T-Tonks ... I'm s-so ... s-sorry I was ... glad it was you..._"

His chest heaving, he collapsed against Luna who hugged him close and stroked his hair without saying anything. He was unaware that Madam Pomfrey had emerged silently from her office and was signalling for the others to leave. Only Luna remained, quietly holding him in the agony of his terrible grief, and not saying anything but soft murmurs as he wailed inconsolably, and not wishing anything of him other than that he tolerate her presence.

.

~~~ Something Worthwhile ~~~

"Come in, Harry."

The Headmaster was not at his desk; he was waiting to greet Harry at the door. Before saying another word, he examined Harry's face closely, but his own expression was unreadable.

"Take a seat," he said eventually.

He paused until Harry was perched stiffly upon a chair then he continued, "Firstly, I would like to thank you, Harry, for the service you have performed, not only for the magical community of this country, but probably also for the entire world."

"Service? I didn't do anything except get Tonks killed!"

"You need to know that Barty Crouch's entire memory of what happened in that room has been recorded, examined, and thoroughly explored. The result of your courage and resourcefulness gave added meaning to the death of Miss Tonks."

"There _was_ no meaning!" Harry flared angrily, half rising off his chair.

"No? Then you demean your saviour. You belittle her sacrifice. You render her of no account."

Harry sank back down, staring sullenly at Dumbledore.

"Miss Tonks died that you may live. She gave her life in the fight for goodness, truth, and justice, and the downfall of Lord Voldemort. If you had been taken, then I fear all might have been lost."

"How? What difference would I make?"

"All the difference in the world, Harry. You see, Voldemort intended to use the blood of his enemy – your blood, Harry – to re-empower himself. He would have risen again, more terrible and deadly than ever before. Thousands, perhaps millions of Muggles, might have suffered and died."

"But he'll try again?"

"Not with the same ritual. The bones of his own father are needed and we have acted swiftly to pulverise those remains and cast them into the ocean."

"He'll create some other way then?"

"Magic is a world of discovery, Harry, much like your Muggle science. When we produce new spells we are either modifying known forms or uncovering magical interconnections that already exist. There have been few fundamental new discoveries for thousands of years. It is most unlikely he will succeed in permanent re-embodiment – apart from weak and temporary possessions of lowly creatures and suchlike. He has suffered torments and great difficulties for fourteen years; it is likely that will continue far, far longer."

"_Does_ he suffer? Can he feel pain?"

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement continues to extract Crouch's memories, but yes, from what we have observed so far, Lord Voldemort's half-life was unbearable to him before and so must also be again – probably worse."

"Good!" said Harry, viciously. "I want him to suffer. And Crouch too for what he did. ... What will happen to _him_ now?"

"In a few days, he will receive the Dementor's kiss."

Harry grimaced but nodded in satisfaction. "I hope Voldemort's soul shares the same fate one day."

Harry remained silent for a few moments, angrily gripping the arm of his chair. "Why me? Why did Voldemort see me as his enemy?"

"Ah, that is a story for another time, but for now, understand this, you defeated him before, and so he needed to reaffirm his supremacy to his supporters. That is no longer possible."

"And you think stopping him was worth Tonks' life?" Harry simmered for a few more seconds. "I shouted to you for help! I begged you! Why didn't you save her! Why didn't you come earlier!"

"We tried in vain to restore the Floo network. Something was blocking access and we did not then know what. I ... regret that we did not persist. Only when Dora – Miss Tonks – called to us that we could now try again, did we succeed."

"She paid the price. I thought it was Luna! Crouch tortured her! She was already dying, but he used the torture curse on her, on a dying woman!"

"Yes, Harry. Doing what is right has a price, a dreadful price sometimes." Dumbledore's gaze was directed inward for a few moments. Harry thought he saw the Headmaster try to suppress a deep sigh. For the first time, the youth seemed to perceive how very, very old the man was.

"Do you blame Miss Lovegood?" said Dumbledore suddenly, breaking Harry out of his reverie.

"What? What! For what?"

"She told me it was at her suggestion that you requested a bodyguard. Miss Lovegood wondered if you blamed her for that."

"Of course not!"

"Yet you blame yourself? Tell me, if your girlfriend had been the Girl-who-lived and you had sacrificed your life for her, would you consider your final act worth performing?"

"Yes, but Tonks... you don't understand, Professor. She spent most of the year standing around, bored silly, unable even to talk to anyone! She must have hated me in the end."

"You are very, very wrong, Harry. Dora told me how much she loved her work, and how much she loved watching out for you."

"She did?"

"Do you suppose that a good mother gets nothing in return for all the care she lavishes on her offspring? Miss Tonks informed me how sad you often were and how she liked to hold you, to give you some comfort if only for a few minutes. She often said, 'doing something worthwhile makes one feel worthwhile'."

With eyes now shining, Harry stared at Professor Dumbledore, absorbing what he had said. He would never forget those words throughout his life...

.

~~~ Twenty Years Later... ~~~

The towering statue in the Ministry is of white stone with gold inlay. Its sister monument, of more modest dimensions, resides in the small graveyard on the hill just outside Mould-on-the-Wold.

"Wait here, you two. We'll be close to Auntie Tonks for a few minutes – don't let go of your little sister, James."

"Okay, Mum."

The anniversary was a warm June day but the ground around the visitors was of well-worn gravel and earth and broken slabs of cold stone that were forever wintry. The journey there, up a winding path, had been a long walk for a three-year-old.

"Legs hurt. Wan' sit down," whimpered the child.

"It's too dirty, Lil, anyway, it's not respectful."

"Wha's '_rispeckful'?_"

"It's not caring enough for Auntie Tonks."

"But..." She held up her arms to her brother, and her eyes were pleading. "Cawwy me, then, Jamie."

James sighed. "Okay, put your hand round my neck and no wriggling."

He lifted her up with one arm supporting her lower back and the other under her knees. He had to bring up a knee to help hoist her with his small frame.

"Who Mummy an' Daddy talking?"

"Auntie Tonks."

"Under gwound?"

"I told you before, she's gone on to a better place."

"Auntie Tonkth hear Mummy an' Daddy?"

"Yes."

They watched their parents in silence for a while. The mother's long, straggly-blonde hair wafted occasionally in the summer breeze as she clung tightly to her husband while he shook with renewed emotions.

"Ith Daddy cwying?"

James croaked a little but didn't answer. He noticed his father's eyes were all red when the adults rejoined the youngsters.

The mother said, "Alright, children?"

"Mum," said James, "why is Aunt Tonk's grave fenced apart from the others?

"Many come to be with her, and to honour her, not just ourselves – look at all the flowers," said Luna, taking Lily from James and hugging her to herself.

"Why they come, Mummy?" said Lily.

"Tell her, Harry," smiled Luna. "She's old enough now."

Harry hesitated briefly, then braced himself. "Lily Tonks Potter, you were named after two of the bravest women I ever knew. None of us would be here but for what they did."

"Wha' they do?"

"They both died to save us all and together they vanquished a bad wizard forever, and made the world a much better place."

James frowned. "Yeah, but he's not dead though, is he? He might come back?"

"No, we know for sure that's no longer possible. He believed he achieved the freedom from death that he craved, but he must understand now it's not forever. We live in a mortal world and here, everything passes away eventually. In addition he's completely helpless. His half-spirit wanders the lonely wastes, suffering and without hope."

"I still don't see why he can't find another way to return though."

Harry smiled. "Surely you've still got your Mum's magic card? _The_ card, I mean."

"Sure, I do." James fumbled it out of his back pocket. It was heavily dog-eared and grubby.

"And is it still blank?"

James grinned and nodded.

"So you know Vector's Equation which proves that seven must always be the maximum number of ways that death can ever be averted – and none of them except the seventh are permanent."

James rolled his eyes and rattled them off. "Desire, light, darkness, love, alchemy, force, and the seventh heaven."

"Which in our world translates as?"

"Possession, unicorn blood, Horcrux, sacrifice, Philosopher's Stone, Resurrection Stone, and... going on."

Luna said, "Both stones were destroyed, thankfully, and every record of that horrible Horcrux ritual has been destroyed. The other methods were only ever temporary too, except the seventh. You-know-who is now too weak to possess anything more than a worm – and that for less than a single minute. He is lost and will have to spend millennia awaiting release by the one inevitability that terrifies him – death. He must have been driven quite mad."

James shuddered. "Good riddance."

They stood and looked at the view down the slope for a while. Several large, interlinked pools glittered far below in the sun.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" said Harry. "Tonks would adore it, I think. She used to sit with us by the lake during that summer term, you know."

Luna looked at him. "I didn't realise she had been so close. Oh, I hope she felt we were all friends."

"Yeah, she'd make rude gestures and pull faces to try to get me to laugh. Tonks was always fun – flirted with me dreadfully!" Harry laughed at the memory. "And she approved of you."

"She did? The only time we spoke was when..." Luna stopped herself. "It'll be so nice when we see her again. "Come, children, let's sit with Auntie Tonks for a while and share the view with her."

"But the ground's all mucky," said James.

"Then sit on your father's lap."

"I'm nearly nine! I'm not sitting on Dad!"

"Then with me. You're never too old to sit on your mother's lap, are you, darling? Here, Harry, you take Lily."

With a swift, deft movement, Luna plucked her wand from behind her ear, and pointed it downwards. "Scourgify!"

"Mum! You've cleaned the ground, so why do I have to..."

"James Xenophilius Potter, would you rather sit on the hard ground or on Mummy's lap and have a cuddle?" smiled Luna.

Sucking his finger, the boy averted his gaze, put his arm round his mother's neck, then she guided him onto her lap.

"Jamie smiling!" chortled Lily.

"No, I'm not."

They sat in a pleasant silence for a while, Harry gently jiggling Lily up and down on his knees to make her giggle.

"Look at the fluffy clouds ahead," breathed Luna, dreamily. "We can almost see on top of them, like they've come down to say hello."

"Uh oh..." winked Harry.

"Uh oh..." mimicked Lily. "Mummy'th happy..."

They whiled away the minutes until completeness embraced them all. Satisfied, they looked at one another, and Harry nodded. Together, they all strolled back down the winding path.

" 'bye for now, Tonks. See you next year and forever," Harry whispered to the wind.

.

The End

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Completed, and I'm reasonably satisfied with it, and very pleased with some of the passages. Sorry about the character death for those of you who are fans, but the story needed some power and drama to finish, and no way was I going to bump off Luna. As it is, the ending is a sort of happy ever after but with a tinge of sorrow and sacrifice. I was going to put the statue in the Auror Department but then I thought, its significance is bigger than that._ :)

_With Voldemort unresurrected, his Death Eaters were not recalled, and his temporary embyronic creature body declined eventually. Yes, the Horcruxes kept him alive as a half-life but he couldn't prevent Dumbledore seeking them out and destroying them over the ensuing years. With the knowledge gained, Professor Vector applied herself to analysing all known methods and calculated the Arithmantic reason why no more ways of delaying death had ever been discovered – there weren't any, nor could be! She resolved her mighty work into a single equation to prove it._ ;)

_Still working on my next Hermione/Harry fic which will be all new adventures during Harry's Hogwarts years but without Voldemort, so no trolls in dungeons, no CoS, no Tournament, etc. I've already written quite a lot of material but I can't begin to publish until I have ironed out some more basic structure. The whole story will probably be split into 7 books, rather like Chary Potter was. Working Title: The All New Adventures of Hermione Granger and Harry Potter at Hogwarts, but that's too long and too vague! There's an overall theme of Strong-Hermione taking the lead and more of the burden from Harry. The first book set in Year 1 might be called Hermione Granger and the Foul Abomination but that's also only a working title at present. It's Hermione-centric with the usual golden 6._ ;)

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews and support. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults — I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

**\- Hippothestrowl**

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